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Jfamous 
actor- Jfamilies  in  America 

BY 

JHontrose  %  \Mo&td 


u: 


C!)omaBiCrotoeU-&Companj 

^^      PUBLISHERS  •  NE\V  •  YORK 


Copyright,  1906,  by  Thomas  Y.  Crowell  &  Company 


Published,  September,  1906 


The  Tfow  Press  •  New  York 


PN 

ZZZS 

n^5-- 

CON  IKNTS 

PAGE 

I. 

TO-DAY    AND    YESTERDAY                      i 

II. 

THE    BOOTHS                                              17 

m. 

THE    JEFFERSONS                                     57 

rv. 

THE    SOTHERNS                                          89 

V. 

THE    BOUCICAULTS                                 113 

VI. 

THE    HACKETTS                                       141 

vn. 

THE    DREWS    AND    THE    BARRY- 

MORES                                                   167 

mi. 

THE    WALLACKS                                      195 

IX. 

THE    DAVENPORTS                                  225 

X. 

THE    HOLLANDS                                       255 

XI. 

THE    POWERS                                           281 

BIBLIOGRAPHY                                         309 

aasGoO 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Edwin  Booth  (Photogravure)        Frontispiece 

Edmund  Kean  6 

Junius  Brutus  Booth  14 

The  Three  Sons  of  Junius  Brutus  Booth  22 

Edwin  Booth  3° 

Edwin  Booth  and  His  Second  Wife  46 

Edwin  Booth  at  DiJBferent  Periods  52 

The  Three  Joseph  Jeffersons  62 

Joseph  Jefferson  as  Dr.  Pangloss  70 

Joseph  Jefferson  in  Three  Roles  82 

E.  A.  Sothem  as  Dundreary  92 

E.  H.  Sothem  in  "Change  Alley"  98 

E.  H.  Sothem  104 

Virginia  Hamed  no 

Dion  Boucicault  116 

Mrs.  Dion  Boucicault  122 

The  Boucicault  Poster  130 

Aubrey,  Nina,  and  Dion  Boucicault  138 

James  H.  Hackett  as  Falstaff  144 

James  K.  Hackett  IS4 

Mary  Mannering  164 

Mrs.  Drew  as  Mrs.  Malaprop  174 


PAGE 

John  Drew  i8o 

John  Drew  in  Three  Roles  184 
Maurice  Barrymore  and  Georgia  Drew 

Barrymore  188 

Ethel  Barrymore  190 

Lionel  and  John  Barrymore  194 

James  W.  Wallack  as  Jaques  200 

Lester  Wallack  210 

The  Wallack  Theatres  220 

E.  L.  Davenport  230 

Edgar  L.  Davenport  246 

Fanny  Davenport  252 

George  Holland  258 

E.  M.  Holland  268 

Joseph  J.,  Kate,  and  George  L.  Holland  276 

Tyrone  Power  284 

Harold  Power  294 

Tyrone  Power,  2d  300 

Mrs.  Tyrone  Power  306 


VI 


ilH 


FOREWORD 

T  is  always  a  pleasure    to   ac- 
knowledge   the    courtesies    ex- 
tended  to   one    engaged   in  re- 
search work.   Dramatic  records 
are    so    scattered    that   without 
assistance  of  this  kind,  it  would 
be    wellnigh    impossible    to   at- 
tempt   accuracy    of    statement. 
Under  the  title  "Famous  Fam- 
ilies of  American  Players,"  I  wrote  a  series  of  articles 
for  The  Theatre  Magazine  during  1904  and  1905,  and 
I  am  indebted  to  the  publishers,  and  to  the  editor, 
Mr.  Arthur  Homblow,  for  the  further  use  of  my  text 
and  some  of  the   accompanying    illustrations.  The 
valuable  printed  papers  and  cUppings  owned  by  Col. 
T.  AUston  Brown  have  been  freely  placed  at  my  dis- 
posal by  him;  such  a  privilege   cannot  be  overes- 
timated. I  have  to  thank  the  librarians  of  Columbia 
University  and  of  the  Astor  Library  for  every  facility 
extended  to  me;  and  for  the  loan  of  books  from 
private  libraries,  I  am   indebted   to  Prof.  Brander 
Matthews,  of  Columbia  University,  and  to  Mr.  Rich- 
ard A.  Purdy,  the  well-known  Shakespearian  reader. 
Mr.  William  Seymour  and  Mr.  Wells  Hawkes  have 
kindly  loaned    me    several    rare    photographs,  and 
these,  together  with  many   obtained  from  Colonel 
Brown  and  other  sources,  have  aided  greatly  in  en- 
hancing the  value  of  the  illustrations.  To  Messrs. 
George,  E.  M,,  and  Joseph  Holland;  to  Mr.  Tyrone 
Power;  to  Mr.  Aubrey  Boucicault;  to  Mr.  E.  L.  Dav- 
enport; and  to  Mr.  William  Norris,  I  wish  to  express 
my  thanks  for  records  and  data  they  have  placed  at 
my  disposal,  and  for  affording  me  opportunities  of 
various  kinds.  I  cannot  fail  to  recognize  the  indirect 
service  Mr.  William  Winter  has  rendered  me ;  by  the 
worthy  intent  and  thoroughness  of  his  writing,  he 
places  all  students  of  the  drama  in  his  debt. 

vii 


if  OrCtDOtD  To  my  mother,  I  am  especially  grateful  for  invalu- 
able assistance  in  verifying  proof,  which  is  of  such 
paramoxmt  importance  in  a  book  of  this  nature. 
The  bibliography  in  the  appendix  contains  references 
of  value.  I  am  indebted  to  all  these  sources  in  a  gen- 
eral way. 

M.    J.   M. 


vm 


I— TO-DAY  AND  YESTERDAY 


I— TO-DAY  AND  YESTERDAY 

p  LOOK  upon  the  playhouse  as  a 
world  within  itself,"  wrote  Addi- 
son in  one  of  the  Spectator  pa- 
pers. Therein  Ues  the  great  at- 
traction of  the  theatre ;  for  the 
time  being  we  can  be  lifted  out  of 
our  present  environment  and  set 
in  the  midst  of  actions  that  con- 
stitute the  three  hours'  traffic  of 
the  stage.  When  we  read  theatrical  biography  or  dra- 
matic history,  and  note  the  records  of  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  performances  of  a  single  play,  when  we 
stop  to  realize  that  each  performance  implies  a  full 
pit,  a  full  circle  of  boxes,  and  overcrowded  galleries, 
then  we  may  understand  in  part  hov/  much  of  a 
social  factor  the  theatre  is  with  its  mimic  life  and  its 
simulated  passions;  how  much  influence  for  good  it 
is  able  to  wield. 

The  mystery  of  the  curtain  is  the  true  attraction  of 
the  playhouse;  the  active  unfolding  of  a  story  the 
real  reason  for  its  being.  But  from  those  early  days 
when  the  raconteur  thrived  upon  his  circle  of  intent 
Usteners,  that  very  circle  grew  by  reason  of  the  skill 
with  which  the  plot  was  unravelled. 
Should  we  try  to  span  the  distance  that  separates  the 
rudimentary  theatre  from  the  playhouse  of  the  pres- 
ent, we  would  find  the  prime  elements  that  mark 
them  practically  the  same  throughout  dramatic  his- 
tory. There  has  always  been  a  story  to  tell,  there  has 
always  been  an  audience,  there  has  always  been  a 
distinct  place  for  the  telling.  Change  the  externals, 
yet  the  elements  will  remain  the  same. 
Still,  if  we  are  to  note  change,  there  are  three  points 
to  be  considered.  The  theatre,  as  an  institution,  has 
always  been  subjected  to  the  conventions  of  its  age ; 
the  actor,  generally  speaking,  has  shown  himself 
representative  of  the  mental  and  moral  attitude  of 


iZDO'DflV   flUD     his  age ;  and  the  playwright,  however  much  he  may 
j^  have  striven  to  be  universally  human,  has  not  been 

^tj^tCtuS^         able  to  move  ahead  of  his  time,  if  he  desired  to  be 
appreciated. 

The  chief  value  of  theatrical  biography  lies  in  the 
way  the  actor  responds  to  conventions  around  him 
and  rises  above  them.  The  theatre  as  an  institution 
has  altered  by  reason  of  material  improvements  and 
by  reason  of  a  change  of  attitude  on  the  part  of  the 
world  at  large.  A  book  detailing  these  variations  has 
yet  to  be  added  to  dramatic  literature. 
The  history  of  the  drama  in  America  is  a  part  of  the 
history  of  the  English  drama ;  our  actors  were  mostly 
of  English  origin,  our  early  theatres  subjected  to  all 
the  conventions  that  marked  the  London  stage.  In 
fact,  society  of  early  New  York  and  early  Richmond 
was  markedly  English  society,  and  only  when  the 
strolling  players  struck  the  trail  of  a  growing  country 
did  they  begin  to  understand  the  ways  of  the  pioneer. 
A  history  of  dramatic  conventions  would  therefore 
be  of  vast  interest.  In  our  reading,  we  find  occasional 
comment  that  sharpens  our  fancy.  For  instance,  it  is 
commonly  believed  that  the  first  female  Juliet  was 
Miss  Saunderson  (1662),  afterwards  wife  of  the  fa- 
mous English  actor,  Thomas  Betterton.  As  early  as 
1592  we  meet  with  contrary  opinions  concerning 
the  morality  of  allowing  women  to  be  shown  upon 
the  stage.  It  was  a  relief,  thought  one,  not  to 
find  English  players  "as  the  players  beyond  sea,  hav- 
ing common  curtezans  to  play  women's  parts."  "It 
was  sinful,"  said  another,  quoting  Deuteronomy 
xxii.  5,  "to  have  men  acting  women's  roles.  Yea, 
abominable  unto  Christians."  The  famous  gossip.  Sir 
Samuel  Pepys,  a  typical  product  of  his  day,  notes  in 
his  diary  on  January  3,  1661,  that  he  witnessed 
"Beggar's  Bush,"  "it  being  very  well  done;  and 
here  the  first  time  that  ever  I  saw  women  come 
upon  the  stage." 


At  this  period  other  material  improvements  marked    ^Tqj^^v   ^|Xt) 

the  gradual  evolution  of  our  modem  theatre.    The 

customary  announcement,  at  the  close  of  the  play,    ^CJotCTDttY 

of  a  change  of  bill  the  next  evening,  was  further 

strengthened  by  the  use  of  placards  upon  which  the 

new  drama  was  advertised.  The   scenery  hkewise 

grew  from  the  mere  sign  reading  "This  is  Juliet's 

Tomb"  into  more  substantial  pictures.  A  record  of 

1605  thus  describes  a  festival  to  King  James :  "The 

stage  was  built  close  to  the  upper  end  of  the  hall,  as 

it  seemed  at  first  sight,  but  indeed  it  was  a  false  wall 

faire  painted,  and  adorned  with  stately  pillars,  which 

pillars  would  turn  about;  by  reason  whereof,  with  the 

help  of  other  painted  clothes,  their  stage  did  vary 

three  times  in  the  acting  of  one  tragedy."  Dryden 

states  that  in  March,  1699,  he  recollects  having  seen 

for  the  first  time  the  name  of  the  author  printed  upon 

the  playbill.  "The  Double  Dealer"  was  announced  as 

"written  by  Mr.  Congreve." 

Tate  Wilkinson  described  the  Covent  Garden  of  his 

day: 

On  crowded  nights  an  amphitheatre  of  seats  was  raised 
upon  the  stage,  where  there  would  be  groups  of  ill- 
dressed  lads  and  persons  sitting  om  the  stage  in  front 
three  or  four  feet  deep ;  so  that,  in  fact,  a  performer  on  a 
popular  night  could  not  step  with  safety,  lest  he  should 
thereby  hurt  or  affend  [sic], or  be  thrown  down  amidst 
scores  of  idle  or  tipsy  apprentices.  But  it  was  the  beaux 
who  usually  affected  that  part  of  the  house.  There  was 
only  one  entrance  on  each  side  the  stage,  which  was 
always  particularly  crowded.  First  they  sported  their 
own  figures  to  gratify  self-consequence  and  impede  and 
interfere  with  the  performers  who  had  to  come  on  and 
go  off  the  stage.  They  loved  to  affront  the  audience, 
particularly  the  gallery  part,  who  would  answer  by 
showering  down  oranges  and  half-eaten  apples,  to  the 
great  terror  of  the  ladies  in  the  pit,  who  were  so  closely 
wedged  they  could  not  move. 

This  evil,  which  led  to  immorality  of  all  kinds,  was 
peremptorily  stopped  by  Garrick  when  he  was  at 

5 


tlTO'DSf   BllD    Drury  Lane  in  1762.  In  the  history  of  the  American 
jg   ^.      j^  stage,  nearly  all  programmes  of  an  early  date  con- 

^CpirrUa^  tained  special  notices  that  "no  persons  whatsoever" 
were  "to  be  admitted  behind  the  scenes."  At  first  this 
prohibition  resulted  in  great  disfavor  and  in  open 
opposal,  but  the  managers  were  generally  firm, 
though  conciliatory  in  their  wording  of  the  order:  "It 
will  be  taken  as  a  particular  favor,  if  no  gentleman 
will  be  offended,"  and  so  on.  This  one  point  alone  is 
sufficient  to  support  the  statement  made  by  Mr. 
Bronson  Howard  that  much  of  the  abuse  of  the  stage 
was  an  outside  infusion;  that  the  theatre  itself  had 
to  push  society  into  the  pit  in  order  to  continue  its 
work  and  to  obtain  proper  discipline.  A  vivid  de- 
scription of  an  early  Virginia  playhouse  is  contained 
in  John  Esten  Cooke's  "The  Virginia  Comedians," 
who  acted  in  the  Williamsburg  Theatre  during  1752. 
Garrick  is  likewise  responsible  for  the  introduction 
of  f  ootUghts  in  place  of  the  huge  chandeliers,  usually 
hung  in  full  view  of  the  audience.  In  America  there 
are  humorous  instances  of  improvised  theatre  lights, 
whether  by  moon  or  candle.  Potatoes  were  often 
scooped  out  to  hold  the  tallow  dip.  One  reads  the 
jubilant  announcement  of  the  first  limelight,  then  of 
the  gas,  then  of  the  marvellous  improvement  of  the 
electric  spark  to  ignite  the  jets  simultaneously,  then 
of  electricity ;  and  now  the  footlights,  a  relic  of 
Garrick's  day,  are  likely  to  be  supplanted  by  a  me- 
chanism that  will  eliminate  any  possibility  of  re- 
flected Ught. 

All  of  the  conventions  that  might  be  named  in  the 
London  theatres  marked  those  in  the  colonies.  The 
early  journals  and  accounts  leave  a  vivid  impression 
of  the  times.  *  On  the  day  of  the  performance  at  half- 

*  Paul  Leicester  Ford  believed  play-acting  could  be  traced 
in  America  before  1702.  One  Anthony  Aston,  an  actor  in 
the  West  Indies,  declared  he  played  in  Virginia  and  in  New 
York  during  1702.  Was  he  the  man  condemned  by  Sewell 

6 


EDMUND    KEAN. 


past  four  of  the  afternoon  along  the  streets  servants  "^O'tlS^  EltD 
might  be  seen  on  their  way  to  the  playhouse ;  there  Wr^cttrrhslti 
they  sat,  holding  places  for  their  farniUes ;  it  is  only  a  t^vplCrOap 
step  removed  to  the  telegraph  boys  who  now  stand  in 
line  before  a  theatre  through  the  long  night,  waiting 
for  the  box  oflSce  to  open.  "The  Merchant  of  Venice" 
was  billed  in  this  fashion  for  August  28,  1752  :  "By 
Permission  of  the  Hon'*'^^  Robert  Dinwiddle,  Esq., 
His  Majesty's  Lieutenant-Governor,  and  Command- 
er-in-Chief of  the  Colony  and  Dominion  of  Virginia. 
...  To  begin  at  Six  o'clock.  Vivat  Rex."  Washington 
was  at  that  performance ;  in  fact,  whenever  the  op- 
portunity afforded,  he  showed  himself  an  enthusiastic 
theatre-goer.  He  was  many  times  stopped  by  the 
action  of  the  Congress  during  the  Revolution.  This 
worthy  body  placed  the  drama  alongside  of  horse- 
racing  and  became  more  severe  as  the  war  advanced 
in  its  edicts  against  "the  exhibitions  of  shews" ;  any 
person  in  the  service  of  the  Government  found  at  the 
play  was  to  be  instantly  dismissed.  As  early  as  1750, 
the  drama  had  a  great  struggle  with  the  General 
Court  in  Massachusetts ;  the  element  of  Puritanism 
was  strong  against  it.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is 
natural  that  the  Cavaher  spirit  of  the  South  should 
have  fostered  such  entertainment. 

[vide  below]?  In  17 18  a  performance  is  mentioned  as  occur- 
ring in  Williamsburg,  Va.  Hugh  Jones,  in  his  "Present  State 
of  Virginia,"  published  in  1724,  refers  to  a  playhouse.  In 
1733  a  theatre  was  opened  in  New  York. 
On  March  2,  1714,  Chief  Justice  Samuel  Sewell  of  Massa- 
chusetts protested  against  acting  in  the  Council  Chamber 
of  the  town  of  Boston;  even  Rome  never  turned  Senate 
house  into  playhouse,  he  argued.  "Let  not  Christian  Boston 
goe  beyond  Heathen  Rome  in  the  practice  of  Shamefull  Van- 
ities." In  Boston,  during  the  early  part  of  1750,  a  theatre,  off- 
shoot of  the  New  York  Hallam  Company,  was  announced. 
The  Rev.  Samuel  Davies,  in  1755,  complaining  of  the  con- 
ditions in  Virginia,  averred  that  "plays  and  romances" 
were  "more  read  than  the  history  of  the  blessed  Jesus" 
[vide  Ford  and  Daly:  Dunlap  Publications]. 


i2L0'Da'P   BUD     '^^^  accounts  of  Washington  at  the  play  are  full  of 
ij,  ^  interest.  He  was  constantly  seen   at  the  old  John 

^ClBtCtOa^  Street  Theatre  in  New  York,  during  1789.  The  actors 
were  prompt  in  celebrating  his  inaugural.  "On  the 
appearance  of  the  President,"  the  papers  said,  "the 
audience  rose,  and  received  him  with  the  warmest 
acclamations — the  genuine  effusions  of  the  hearts  of 
Freemen." 

In  Philadelphia,  Washington  usually  occupied  the 
stage  box,  which  was  decorated  with  the  seal  of  the 
United  States ;  he  always  had  a  formal  reception,  with 
a  military  guard.  "Mr.  Wignell  [the  manager],  in 
a  full  dress  of  black,  with  his  hair  elaborately 
powdered  in  the  fashion  of  the  time,  and  holding  two 
wax  candles  in  silver  candlesticks,  was  accustomed 
to  receive  the  President  at  the  box-door  and  conduct 
Washington  and  his  party  to  their  seats." 
Many  of  our  Presidents  were  theatre-goers,  and  were 
associated  with  members  of  our  American  actor- 
famiUes.  Jefferson  and  the  grandfather  of  "Rip," 
Jackson  and  Booth,  Lincoln  and  James  H.  Hackett, 
John  Adams  and  Hackett,  Cleveland  and  Joseph 
Jefferson  were  all  on  friendly  terms.  So,  too,  the 
statesman  Henry  Clay  came  in  for  his  share  with 
E.  L.  Davenport  and  Tyrone  Power. 
In  1794  it  was  stated  that  lost  and  found  articles 
might  be  inquired  for  at  the  box  office ;  that  the  said 
box  office  would  hereafter  be  opened  at  certain  hours 
every  morning  for  the  convenience  of  purchasers, 
instead  of  only  on  the  day  of  performance.  On  a 
programme  of  March  5,  1794,  there  is  an  order  that 
when  the  parties  are  seated  in  their  box,  the  servants 
shall  instantly  retire  "as  they  cannot  on  any  ac- 
count be  permitted  to  remain."  Carriage  calls  were 
regulated  in  terms  "to  set  down  and  take  up  with  the 
horses'  heads  towards  . . .  ." 

On  November  19,  1750,  a  paragraph  appended  to  the 
theatre  notice  stated   that    "the  house  being  new 
8 


floored,   is  made   warm  and   comfortable,   besides    '^O'lJ^V   BHtl 
which  Gentlemen  and  Ladies  may  cause  their  stoves     m      ^     >, 
to  be  brought."  In  May,  1851,  a  general  request  was     ^t^tCYO^^ 
printed:  "If  any  Lady  or  Gentleman  has  the  farce 
called  the  'Intriguing  Chambermaid,'  and  will  lend  it 
a  while  to  the  players,  it  will  be  gratefully  acknowl- 
edged." During  the  early  part  of  1786,  Hallam  and 
Henry,  at  the  John  Street  Theatre,  resorted  to  the 
innovation  of  reserved  seats,  to  avoid  the  constant 
disputes  arising  about  places  in  the  boxes.  All  of 
these  adoptions  hastened  improvements  in  theatre 
management,  and  are  in  most  cases  to  be  found  to- 
day in  modified  form. 

During  the  early  generations  of  our  actor-families  in 
America,  theatrical  conditions  had  to  contend  with 
the  practical  conditions  that  isolated  certain  parts  of 
a  large  coimtry.  It  took  weeks  to  cross  the  ocean ;  it 
took  interminable  hours  by  boat  and  stage  and  im- 
certain  train  to  go  from  Philadelphia  to  New  York, 
from  New  York  to  Boston.  The  West  was  an  unex- 
plored land. 

To  read  Tyrone  Power's  impressions  of  America  dur- 
ing the  years  1833,  1834,  and  1835,  is  to  obtain  a 
most  valuable  picture  of  the  hardships  travellers  had 
then  to  undergo.  We  marvel  in  these  days  at  what  to 
those  of  that  period  appeared  luxuries.  Mr.  Power 
records : 

Each  state,  North,  South,  and  West,  is  eagerly  thrust- 
ing forth  these  iron  arms  [railroads]  to  knit,  as  it  were, 
in  a  straighter  embrace  her  neighbors ;  and  I  have  not  a 
doubt  but,  in  a  very  short  time,  a  man  may  journey  from 
the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  coastwise  with 
as  much  facility  as  he  now  does  from  Boston  to  Wash- 
ington, a  distance  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  which 
may  be  at  this  day  performed  within  forty  hours  out  of 
which  you  pass  a  night  in  New  York. 

But,  in  the  face  of  these  difliculties,  the  actors  of  a 
past  age  remained  undaunted,  and  dramatic  centres 
were  as  clearly  defined  as  they  are  to-day.  The  thea- 


^O^tJflV  SnZ)  ^^^  ^^^  ^^^  ^  System,  and  on  that  account  perhaps  it 
^  had  its  practical  disadvantages;  salaries  were  not 

^C^tCtDd^  assured  and  losses  fell  heavily  upon  the  actor  as  well 
as  upon  the  manager.  The  theatre  involved  more  than 
it  does  now  the  personal  equation  and  for  that  rea- 
son it  was  able  to  nurture  well-defined  homes,  which 
partook  somewhat  of  the  nature  of  the  manager.  For 
actors  in  those  days  sought  to  control  theatres  at  dif- 
ferent times,  and  what  is  more,  if  not  in  actual  con- 
trol, they  did  not  disdain  becoming  stage-managers. 
Theatrical  circuits  crept  in  snake-like  manner  along 
the  lines  of  progress— Boston,  New  York,  Philadel- 
phia, Baltimore,  and  Washington;  Richmond, 
Charleston,  Mobile,  and  New  Orleans.  Pushing  al- 
most through  the  primeval  forests,  company  after 
company  would  stop  over-night  in  mere  villages  to 
satisfy  an  innate  craving  people  had  for  the  play. 
The  romance  of  theatrical  life  is  thus  placed  by  a 
reader  above  the  actual  dangers  that  were  every- 
where prevalent.  Manager  Smith,  with  a  company  of 
strollers,  went  his  way  through  the  South ;  and  he 
records  one  of  his  numerous  stops  in  this  manner : 

Georgia!  generous  hospitable  Georgia!  How  well  do  I 
remember  my  sensations  when  first  entering  upon  your 
soil!  It  was  Sunday,  and  the  streets  of  Coliunbus  were 
filled  with  gayly  dressed  citizens  and  Creek  Indians. 
The  arrival  of, a  theatrical  company  created  a  decided 
sensation. 

"When  do  you  open?"  was  the  general  question. 
"Next  Thursday,"  was  the  response. 
"Where  do  you  open?"  was  the  next  and  most  natural 
inquiry. 

"In  the  'New  Theatre,'  "  was  the  brief  but  somewhat 
puzzling  reply. 

Having  taken  possession  of  apartments  in  the  Colimi- 
bus  Hotel,  then  kept  by  Messrs.  Pomeroy  and  Mon- 
tague, I  asked  that  a  message  should  be  sent  to  the  most 
expeditious  contractor  in  the  city.  A  Mr.  Bates  soon  ap- 
peared and  in  twenty  minutes  he  had  my  directions.  On 
the  next  Saturday,  the  following  true  paragraph  ap- 
peared in  one  of  the  newspapers : 

10 


"Expedition! — A   theatre    seventy  feet  long  by  forty     '(i^ri^h^Xf    flttti 
feet  wide  was  commenced  on  Monday  morning  last  by     K-^V^UiXY    CtlHJ 
our  enterprising  fellow-citizen,  Mr.  Bates,  and  finished     l^^({f  ^vTlrlt? 
on  Thursday  afternoon  in  season  for  the  reception  of    Jr^J'^^'^'^^c 
Mr.  Sol.  Smith's  company  on  that  evening.  A  great 
portion  of  the  timber  on  Monday  morning  waved  to  the 
breeze  in  its  native  forest ;  four  score  hours  afterward 
its  massive  piles  were  shaken  by  the  thunder  of  applause 
in  the  crowded  assemblage  of  men!" 

A  consideration  of  the  drama  in  America  may  be 
followed  in  one  of  two  ways:  either  by  reading  the 
local  history  of  dramatic  centres,  or  by  tracing  the 
careers  of  individual  actors.  By  the  latter  method 
one  obtains  a  wider  view,  a  more  distinct  impression ; 
by  the  former,  one  is  able  to  reach  isolated  pictures. 
Dramatic  art  always  seeks  the  city  of  greatest  com- 
mercial activity.  English  actors  turn  their  eyes 
toward  London,  American  actors  toward  New  York. 
Therefore  a  history  of  the  New  York  stage  is  almost 
general  in  its  scope,  including  mention  of  all  those 
whose  work  represents  the  highest  tradition.  But 
the  theatres  are  local,  and  the  old  Park  Theatre, 
or  the  Chatham  Street  Theatre,  or  the  old  Bowery 
Theatre  is  no  more  to  be  reckoned  as  typical  than 
the  Boston  Federal  Street  Theatre  or  the  Philadelphia 
Chestnut  Street  Theatre. 

Theatre  buildings  in  America  have  never  meant 
much  to  American  theatre-goers.  In  the  early  days 
of  New  York,  when  the  population  hugged  the  Bat- 
tery, the  old  centres  of  amusement  were  mere  rooms, 
constructed  hastily  and  liable  at  all  times  to  fire.  But 
flames  could  not  stop  the  persistency  of  managers; 
they  would  rebuild  time  and  time  again,  experience 
making  them  more  careful,  and  each  new  edifice  be- 
coming more  permanent  in  character.  The  repeated 
building  of  the  old  Bowery  Theatre  is  an  instance 
of  the  strong  intentions  of  a  people  to  support  the 
play.  Architectually,  many  of  the  theatres  were 
imposing  looking  on  the  outside.  Within,  however 

II 


'^OitnV  nUtJ  ^^°^^y»  *^®y  were  adomed  with  rich  hangings,  and,  if 
^  Fanny  Kemble  is  correct,  were  often  imitative  in 

J^CjStCVD^V  decoration  of  the  London  houses.  A  history  of  the 
theatre  in  America  would  include  descriptions  of  these 
old  places.  It  would  likewise  consider  the  manage- 
ment of  the  stock  companies.  In  retrospect  Henry 
Clapp  has  left  his  judgment  of  these  early  organiza- 
tions : 

Fifty  years  ago  [from  1882]  there  was  a  narrow  but 
orderly  stock  system,  under  which  plays  were  presented 
by  actors  in  residence,  who  sometimes  supported  a 
visiting  artist,  but  generally  filled,  or  were  expected  to 
fill,  the  public  eye,  without  the  added  light  of  "stars"; 
now  there  are  a  bare  dozen  or  so  of  regular  stock  com- 
panies, but  scores  upon  scores  of  "stars,"  who  rush  over 
the  country,  trailing  their  "troupes"  behind  them.  In 
1832  [and  even  at  an  earlier  date]  the  theatre  depended 
for  its  maintenance  principally  upon  a  small  wealthy 
upper  class;  now  it  is  the  occasional  distraction  of  the 
few,  and  affords  a  chief,  eagerly  devoixred  pabulum  of 
entertainment  to  the  many. 

In  our  desire  for  a  National  Theatre,  where  we  may 
turn  for  some  standard  of  taste  and  judgment,  we 
must  not  lose  sight  of  the  truth  as  pointed  out  by 
Clapp  that  "the  old-fashioned  stock  company,  with 
its  dignity,  its  respect  for  achieved  distinction,  its 
strict  regimen,  its  abundantly  afforded  opportunities 
for  observation,  imitation,  and  criticism,  and  its 
thoroughly  professional  atmosphere,"  did  much  for 
the  pioneer  actor,  fulfilling  the  needs  of  an  endowed 
institution. 

A  record  of  the  famous  actor-families  in  America 
necessarily  includes  a  survey  of  the  stage  in  America 
during  practically  one  hundred  years.  It  involves  an 
indication  of  the  theatre  side,  of  the  art  side,  of  the 
social  side ;  it  suggests  an  interrelation  of  family  with 
family,  whether  professionally  or  by  marriage,  as 
was  often  the  case.  There  is  hardly  a  family  men- 
tioned in  dramatic  history  that  has  not  had  two  or 
12 


more  representatives  on  the  stage,  but  the  chapters  (LO^Dcl'^   ^UU 
that  follow  deal  with  those  best  known,  who  through  t^rc^f  rvfi'tti 
many  generations  of  players  have  with  persistency  4r^P*^^^'^**l. 
remained   actors    despite    pecuniary  demands  and 
momentary  advice. 

A  student  perhaps  will  some  day  take  these  data  and 
scientifically  exemplify,  according  to  Galton,  the 
principles  upon  which  the  doctrine  of  hereditary 
genius  is  founded.  Such  a  brief  would  throw  inter- 
esting light  upon  what  most  impresses  a  reader  of 
theatre  records — the  recurrent  aptitudes  and  tastes 
which,  if  they  do  not  descend  from  father  to  son,  un- 
failingly crop  out  later  in  a  clear  case  of  atavism.  It 
will  be  worth  while  reasoning  why,  despite  the  earn- 
est effort  and  absorbing  desire  on  the  part  of  some  of 
the  Jeffersons  to  excel  in  tragedy,  they  not  only 
failed  to  be  accepted  as  tragedians,  but  their  natures, 
through  five  generations,  prohibited  them  equally  as 
much  from  so  becoming. 

The  actor-famihes  in  America  played  together  in  the 
companies  of  the  day ;  many  were  trained  in  the  same 
school,  under  the  same  men  in  England.  In  America, 
they  were  subjected  to  the  same  conditions  of  hard- 
ship. As  the  years  passed,  and  they  stood  forth  in  the 
proper  magnitude  of  their  art,  when  they  assumed 
other  duties  than  those  of  actor,  they  called  around 
them  their  associates;  they  in  turn  encouraged  and 
helped  the  rising  generation.  It  all  became  a  personal 
intercourse,  not  a  business  engagement  made  through 
a  middleman.  The  stock  system  fostered  schools  of 
acting,  and  the  methods  of  Booth  the  elder,  of  Cooke, 
of  Forrest,  were  as  definite  as  those  of  Kemble,  Kean, 
or  Macready. 

There  is  a  temptation,  in  writing  of  the  drama,  es- 
pecially of  the  lives  of  players,  to  allow  the  imagina- 
tion too  free  a  scope ;  to  ignore  fact,  and  to  picture 
the  actor  in  keen  and  graceful  phrases.  When 
Charles  Lamb  wrote  his  EUa  essays  on  ElUston,  when 

13 


'^O'tJn^  nUD  he  characterized  Palmer  and  King,  he  gave  them 
Mr»iif<*t*hati  warmth  and  distinction  —but  it  is  an  idealizing  proc- 
Jf*C3lCr(Ja^  ess  that  while  agreeable  may  often  be  far  from  right. 
That  it  is  possible  to  defy  the  mutabiUty  of  the  actors' 
art,  however,  is  certain.  Notwithstanding  critics  may 
disagree,  there  are  points  of  common  opinion  among 
them  and  these  may  be  taken  as  positive  factors.  It 
is  possible  to  determine  the  essential  traits  in  an  act- 
or's work:  whether  or  not  he  shows  fire  or  spiritual 
calm;  whether  his  humor  is  spontaneous  or  not; 
whether  he  possesses  romantic  vigor  or  intellectual 
force — these  are  determined  by  the  records  of  the 
past. 

But  whether  or  not  an  actor's  method  can  be  easily 
summarized  is  another  question;  even  he  himself 
falters  when  he  comes  to  explain  by  what  process  he 
arrived  at  his  powerful  effects.  Lester  Wallack  de- 
voted well-nigh  a  whole  chapter  in  his  "Memoirs"  to 
the  explanation  of  how  he  worked.  Every  actor  has 
to  go  through  the  drudgery  of  memory  study,  has  to 
grope  for  the  author's  meaning,  has  to  determine  the 
best  way  of  unfolding  the  motive  by  gesture  and  ex- 
pression. And  every  actor  in  his  explanation  has  to 
come  back  to  the  use  of  the  word  "inspirational" 
when  he  sums  up  the  finished  character.  To  pick  and 
choose  is  one  thing  in  art,  to  construct  is  another. 
"I  found,"  said  Wallack,  "particularly  in  comedy, 
that  if  an  actor  is  not  self-conscious,  it  is  simply  be- 
cause he  has  not  studied  his  effects.  ...  A  comedian 
can  never  forget  his  audience  as  much  as  a  tragedian 
can."  This  statement  involves  the  whole  controversy 
between  Coquelin  and  Henry  Irving — a  question  as 
to  whether  an  actor  should  lose  himself  in  a  part  or 
realize  always  that  he  is  simulating. 
The  ten  representative  families  chosen  for  consider- 
ation herewith  are  those  wherein  not  only  has  the 
persistent  actor  manifested  himself,  but  wherein 
representatives  figure   prominently    on  the  boards 

14 


JUNIUS    BRUTUS    BOOTH. 


to-day.  There  are  many  whose  serviceable  careers    '^O'llS'P   3tTl) 
would  be  of  equal  interest :  the  Placides,  the  Deans,    m^^^^^*,^ 
the  Gilberts,  the  Forrests,  the  Wheelocks — so  might  a   ^tpltVOal^ 
longer  Hst  of  actor-famiUes  be  named.  As  it  is,  a 
close  study  of  a  limited  number  involves  the  inclu- 
sion of  the  others. 

The  magnitude  of  art  in  the  actor-families  decreases 
from  generation  to  generation ;  it  is  difficult  to  char- 
acterize any  player  of  the  present  as  purely  a  trage- 
dian or  a  comedian.  An  actor  is  now  engaged  to  do 
what  a  manager  wishes  him  to  do.  He  hardly  be- 
comes identified  with  one  company  before  he  is 
shifted  to  another;  he  is  paid  as  much  to  sing  in 
musical  comedy  or  to  talk  in  farce,  as  he  is  to  play 
in  Shakespeare.  The  System  consults  his  versatility, 
not  his  incHnation.  The  conditions  of  the  theatre  to- 
day are  different  from  those  of  yesterday.  Thus  far, 
within  a  decade,  the  theatre  has  produced  no  distinct 
type  of  actor  to  compete  with  Booth  or  Forrest,  with 
Wallack  or  Davenport.  But  because  the  demand  has 
not  as  yet  called  forth  such  a  type,  we  cannot  assert 
that  such  a  type  does  not  exist.  The  farther  we  pro- 
gress, however,  in  our  study,  the  more  conclusive  we 
will  become  that  a  stock  company  is  productive  of 
better  results  than  any  other  system  of  management 
yet  tried  in  America. 

The  veteran  actor  is  fast  disappearing,  that  is,  the 
veteran  of  two  or  three  generations  ago.  There  will 
always  be  an  old  class  of  theatre  enthusiasts,  but  the 
men  who  knew  Booth,  who  saw  Sothem  or  Forrest, 
are  becoming  rarer  and  rarer.  It  is  the  reminiscent 
touch  of  sadness  that  stamps  the  veteran  actor,  the 
veteran  playgoer.  Perhaps  one  will  tell  you  of  his 
recollection  when  Forrest  came  to  town — how  as  a 
boy  he  went  with  his  father  and  stood  in  line,  waiting 
to  purchase  his  seats.  Another  will  close  his  eyes,  and 
with  the  mental  picture  of  Forrest  and  Salvini  before 
him— as  though  it  were  yesterday — he  will  tell  you 

15 


}i^c0tcrtjav 


iC^O'Dfl'p   nUtJ    wherein  their  interpretations   of  Shakespeare  dif- 
fered. 

"Are  we  so  soon  forgot  when  we  are  gone?"  Many  a 
play  has  served  its  momentary  purpose  and  been 
placed  upon  the  shelf ;  many  an  actor,  now  forgotten, 
has  received  his  nightly  applause  from  warm  hands 
now  cold.  But  the  famous  actor-families  in  America, 
who  have  dominated  in  their  particular  line,  who 
have  brought  originality  and  clarity  of  vision  to  bear 
upon  their  work,  who  have  passed  an  art  down  from 
generation  to  generation,  who  have  done  their  best 
to  preserve  the  old  and  to  encourage  the  new,  will  not 
be  forgotten,  because  their  effort  and  accomplish- 
ment have  become  crystallized  into  a  tradition.  And 
provided  that  tradition  does  not  limit,  it  serves  to 
strengthen  the  dignity  of  dramatic  art. 


i6 


n— THE  BOOTHS 


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B2*«amg;S 
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n— THE  BOOTHS 

AD  there  been  no  Edmund  Kean 
in  England,  there  probably 
would  have  been  no  Edwin 
Booth  in  America ;  for  the  his- 
toric quarrel  between  Kean  and 
Junius  Brutus  Booth  was  the 
ultimate  cause  of  the  latter's 
setting  sail  for  Virginia,  after  a 
bitter  feud  between  the  two  tra- 
gedians. Stage  history  is  largely  a  matter  of  individ- 
ual careers,  and  the  decline  of  an  actor's  star  is 
compensated  for  by  the  rise  of  a  new  one.  This  is 
truly  the  case  with  the  Booths,  father  and  son. 
Kean  thought  himself  in  undisputed  possession  of 
the  London  pubUc  until  Junius  Brutus  Booth  ap- 
peared ;  and  Edwin  Forrest  had  long  been  popular 
in  America  when  his  fiery  temper  embroiled  him 
with  Macready,  and  the  Astor  Place  riots  in  conse- 
quence thereof  subsiding,  revealed  in  the  horizon  a 
recognized  actor  in  Edwin  Booth.  "The  old  order 
changeth,  yielding  place  to  new." 
It  IS  only  necessary  to  record  two  generations  of 
Booths  before  the  advent  of  any  actors  in  the  family ; 
the  great-grandfather  of  Edwin  Booth  was  a  silver- 
smith, John  Booth  by  name ;  he  was  a  man  of  very 
decisive  action,  for  when  his  son  Richard  was  fired 
with  the  ardent  zeal  of  repubUcanism,  around  1777, 
the  year  of  Burgoyne's  surrender,  his  father  held  out 
a  restraining  hand ;  it  was  due  to  his  influence  that 
his  son  remained  in  England  and  attended  to  the 
duties  of  an  attorney.  The  affair  carried  with  it  the 
atmosphere  of  romantic  adventure.  Secretly  young 
Richard  Booth,  with  his  cousin,  John  Brevitt,  had  set 
sail  for  America,  by  shpping  over  to  Paris,  seemingly 
on  a  pleasure  trip,  and  there  he  had  put  himself 
to  the  task  of  addressing  a  letter  to  the  great  leader, 
John  Wilkes,  dated  October  28,  1777.  In  it  he  said : 

19 


'0^>jp  As  Englishmen,  it  may  be  urged  that  we  are  not  alto- 

"  gether   Justified    in   taking   arms  against   our    native 

1BD0tI]£(  Country,  but  we  hope  such  a  vague  argument  will  have 

"^  no  weight  with  a  Gentleman  of  your  well-known  abili- 

ties; for  as  that  country  has  almost  parted  with  all  its 
Rights,  which  have  been  given  up  to  the  present  Tyran- 
nic Government,  it  must  be  thought  the  Duty  of  every 
true  Briton  to  assist  those  who  oppose  oppression  and 
lawless  Tyranny. 

In  conclusion  the  letter  asked  Wilkes  for  proper  cre- 
dentials to  secure  an  appointment  in  the  American 
army;  but  the  agitator  thought  it  wiser  to  inform 
John  Booth  of  the  scheme,  and  thus  it  was  that 
the  wayward  son  was  captured  in  time,  though  his 
companion,  Brevitt,  succeeded  in  escaping,  and  was 
heard  of  afterwards,  as  a  captain  in  the  Revolution- 
ary army. 

So  Richard  Booth  remained  peaceably  in  England, 
amassing  a  fair  fortune,  and  still  cUnging  to  his 
republicanism  to  such  an  extent  that  he  had  a 
framed  picture  of  Washington  hung  conspicuously 
in  his  house,  and  woe  betide  the  person  who  passed 
it  by  without  bowing  the  head  as  a  mark  of  respect ! 
It  was  not  only  fit,  but  courteous,  for  John  Booth, 
who  had  married  Elizabeth  Wilkes,  to  send  his  rela- 
tive a  piece  of  historic  silver  as  a  token  of  esteem. 
Young  Richard  was  himself  soon  wedded  to  a  Miss 
Game  or  Gam,  who  boasted  of  the  blood  of  the 
Llewellyns,  a  family  figuring  on  the  field  of  Agin- 
court. 

When  Junius  Brutus  Booth  came  into  the  world,  in 
the  Parish  of  St.  Pancras,  London,  on  May  i,  1796, 
he  found  himself  well  supplied  with  ancestry.  Per- 
haps there  was  some  regret  on  the  part  of  the  Booths 
that  they  could  not  lay  claim  to  kinship  with  the 
actor.  Barton  Booth.  These  tvt^o  famiUes  crossed  oc- 
casionally, once  when  Miss  Sally  Booth,  playing  in  a 
Covent  Garden  company,  with  Junius,  at  the  outset 
of  his  career,  asked  the  young  man  if  he  would  be  so 
20 


kind  as  to  add  an  "e"  to  the  end  of  his  name ;  only     -^hr 
in  this  way  might  their  relationship  be  disproven;  ^ 

and  besides,  she  could  not  possibly  have  his  ultimate  OBODtl^jSi 
failure  connected  with  her  undoubted  success. 
Junius  Brutus  Booth  received  more  than  an  ordinary 
education ;  there  is  a  record  of  his  having  been  placed 
at  Eton ;  these  school  days  developed  in  him  a  great 
classical  taste,  at  the  same  time  that  they  indicated  his 
strong  penchant  for  languages.  But  when  the  time 
came  to  choose  a  profession,  young  Booth  passed 
through  a  period  of  quick  and  successive  changes; 
he  could  do  naught  with  drawing  or  Uterature ;  he 
learned  printing  and  studied  law,  but  neither  was  to 
his  liking.  Then  he  was  bound  to  the  navy  as  mid- 
shipman, and  placed  upon  the  brig  "Boxer."  In 
turn,  prompted  probably  by  the  same  motive  his 
father  had  shown  in  his  case,  Richard  Booth  sought 
his  son's  resignation  from  service,  shortly  before  the 
vessel  sailed  on  a  disastrous  trip  to  America.  As  yet, 
the  Booths  were  not  to  emigrate. 
Inherent  talent  soon  manifested  itself  the  victor; 
young  Booth  turned  actor,  despite  the  protestations 
of  his  family,  and  we  hear  of  him  as  early  as  De- 
cember 13,  1813,  playing  Campillo,  in  "The  Honey- 
moon," at  Deptford.  The  next  year,  turbulent  though 
the  Napoleonic  campaigns  were,  Junius  Brutus 
Booth  made  a  professional  tour  on  the  Continent, 
and  while  in  Belgium  allied  himself,  on  May  8, 
1815,  with  one  Marie  Christine  Agatha  Delanoir — a 
marriage  with  disastrous  results  and  ultimate  di- 
vorce. 

The  professional  career  of  Junius  Brutus  Booth  at 
the  start  was  that  of  most  strolling  players.  Harris, 
of  Covent  Garden,  immediately  refused  his  services, 
so  he  accepted  an  offer  from  the  Worthing  Theatre, 
under  one  Trotter,  who  paid  him  the  munificent 
salary  of  30  shillings  a  week.  He  began  attracting 
notice,  so  much  so  that  finally  he  secured  an  en- 

21 


"die  gagement  at  Covent  Garden,  and  it  was  while  play- 

^  ing  there,  in  "The  Maid  and  the  Magpie,"  that  he 

IBOOti^jSi  found  himself,  apparently,  conflicting  with  the  career 
of  Miss  Sally  Booth.  Three  times  he  returned  to  be 
under  Trotter's  management,  and  the  last  time 
proved  his  making.  Kean,  booked  one  evening  to 
play  Sir  Giles  Overreach,  failed  to  put  in  his  ap- 
pearance at  the  theatre,  and  though  the  audience 
demurred  when  Booth's  substitution  was  an- 
nounced, their  doubt  grew  to  warm  welcome  later 
on.  This  enthusiasm  increased  further  when  "Rich- 
ard III"  was  played  a  short  while  after;  then  it  was 
that  friends  of  Booth  went  to  Harris,  and  argued 
with  the  potent  manager  until  he  promised  the 
young  actor  a  trial  night. 

What  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  Booth;  what 
those  of  Kean,  who  was  playing  at  Drury  Lane,  the 
rival  theatre !  A  new  Richard  in  the  field  was  pro- 
claimed ;  a  new  actor  on  the  horizon  was  heralded. 
There  was  such  a  striking  resemblance  in  person  and 
manner  between  Kean  and  Booth,  who  were  about 
to  clash,  that  when  the  friends  of  Kean  saw  Booth 
they  accused  him  of  imitating,  and  the  dispute  waxed 
so  fast  and  furious  that  Kean  became  alarmed  over 
the  result.  The  great  trial  occurred  on  February  12, 
1817.  The  "ingenious  fac-simile"  of  Kean  was  soon 
the  talk  of  the  town.  HazUtt  wrote  in  "The  Ex- 
aminer" : 

A  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Booth,  who  we  under- 
stand has  been  acting  with  considerable  applause  at 
Worthing  and  Brighton,  came  out  in  "Richard,  Duke 
of  Gloster,"  at  this  theatre,  on  Wednesday.  We  do  not 
know  well  what  to  think  of  his  powers  till  we  see  him 
in  some  part  in  which  he  is  more  himself.  His  face  is 
adapted  to  tragic  characters,  and  his  voice  wants 
neither  strength  nor  musical  expression.  But  almost  the 
whole  of  his  performance  was  an  exact  copy  or  parody 
of  Mr.  Kean's  manner  of  doing  the  same  part.  It  was 
a  complete,  but  at  the  same  time,  a  successful  piece  of 
plagiarism.  We  do  not  think  this  kind  of  second-hand 

22 


reputation  can  last  upon  the  London  boards  for  more  tJJf'Ue* 

than  a  character  or  two.  .  .  .  We  do  not  blame  Mr.  ^i)t 

Booth  for  borrowing  Mr.  Kean's  coat  and  feathers  to  's^rtrtfl^.tf 

appear  in  upon  a  first  and  trying  occasion,  but  if  he  jOuVlli)p 
wishes  to  gain  a  permanent  reputation,  he  must  come 
forward  in  his  own  person. 

Naturally,  with  all  this  manifest  interest  in  the  new 
actor,  Harris's  salary  proposition  of  £2  rose  to  £5, 
and  with  the  increase  rose  also  Booth's  just  de- 
mands for  more.  Harris  argued  the  matter  with  him, 
bickering  over  a  trifling  sum ;  in  the  meantime,  Kean 
took  the  affair  in  his  own  hands  and  drove  to  Covent 
Garden  in  coach  and  four.  There,  in  the  excess  of  a 
seeming  full  heart,  he  succeeded  in  flattering  Booth 
with  offers  from  Drury  Lane;  and  in  all  haste,  the 
two  returned  to  the  Committee  Room  of  that  theatre, 
where  Booth's  name  was  affixed  to  an  unread  con- 
tract. Out  of  this  complication,  created  through  a 
palpable  breach  of  etiquette,  furor  arose ;  audiences 
parted  at  the  ways :  Keanites  and  Boothites  were  at 
war! 

At  Covent  Garden  a  new  play  was  hastily  substituted 
for  the  evening's  performance ;  Booth's  absence  was 
explained  before  the  curtain.  But  the  audience  would 
not  be  soothed.  "You've  driven  him  to  Drury  Lane," 
they  yelled. 

There  was  some  truth  in  this.  On  the  rival  stage, 
Booth  as  lago  faced  Kean's  Othello.  "When  they 
entered  together,"  wrote  one  authority,  "the  ap- 
plause was  electrical.  The  circumstance  itself  is 
only  paralleled  by  the  conjunction  of  Garrick  and 
Quin." 

"I  know  my  price,"  says  lago  of  the  text.  "And 
you  didn't  get  it  at  Covent  Garden,"  answered  a  voice 
from  the  pit. 

It  may  have  been  that  Kean  eclipsed  his  rival;  or 
more  likely  still,  Booth  may  have  suddenly  seen 
through  the  scheme  of  his  new  managers  to  limit 

23 


-^1^  ^  his  parts  to  small  ones  only ;  but  they  had  not  reck- 

'  oned   with   their  host.   Booth  almost  immediately 

l3OOtl30  returned,  with  contrite  spirit,  to  Covent  Garden, 
thereby  averting  legal  proceedings  against  himself ; 
circulars  were  issued  to  and  fro  between  the  rival 
houses,  and  on  February  25,  18 17,  the  mighty  wave 
of  excitement  broke  into  a  prolonged  roar. 
Mr.  Booth  was  billed  to  play  "Richard  III.**  The 
house  was  crowded  with  friends  and  enemies.  The 
curtain  rose  at  six,  and  only  at  midnight  was  the 
place  cleared.  There  were  hours  of  dumb  acting,  of 
weary  efforts  to  appease,  of  fruitless  endeavors  to 
explain ;  through  the  shouts  and  hisses,  the  play  was 
forced  to  proceed  in  pantomime.  Attempts  were  made 
to  quell  the  noise;  a  placard  was  raised — "Grant 
silence  to  explain" — but  with  no  avail!  Another 
placard — "Can  Englishmen  condemn  unheard?*'  — 
yet  on  that  evening  Booth  remained  unheard! 
FeeUng  grew  more  intense  when  it  was  rumored  that 
Drury  Lane  had  sent  representatives  who  were  under 
orders  to  ruin  the  performance,  if  possible,  by  creat- 
ing a  demonstration. 

On  March  1,3,  and  6  the  play  was  repeated;  pande- 
monium filled  the  place ;  surging  from  the  streets,  the 
crowds  took  possession  of  the  theatre  and  poured 
into  the  pit.  "Booth  forever!"  shouted  some,  while 
"No  Booth!"  was  the  counter  cry.  Orange  peel  was 
thrown ;  a  fight  was  started  in  one  of  the  upper  boxes, 
and  when  the  disturbers  were  put  out  they  pounded 
upon  the  doors.  Booth's  printed  address  of  explana- 
tion was  handed  around ;  outstretched  hands  tore  the 
bills  away  from  eager  readers.  Then  placards  were 
raised — "He  has  been  punished  enough;  Let  us  for- 
give him;  No  persecution — we  pardon  him."  When 
the  last  curtain  fell.  Booth  appeared  with  his  man- 
ager ;  the  audience  was  partially  satisfied  with  the 
player's  evident  contrition.  "I  have  acted  wrong.  I 
have  made  an  apology,  and  thrown  myself  on  the 
24 


Cl^e 


candor  of  Englishmen."  After  this,  prejudice  abated 
somewhat,  for  the  public  realized,  in  part,  the  ex- 
cessive jealousy  of  Kean.  ^OOtl^JJ 
These  were  the  days  when  Booth  was  compelled  to 
speak  directly  to  his  audience;  this  fact  probably 
awakened  in  him  a  thorough  disUke  to  curtain-calls, 
and  made  him  refuse  absolutely  to  respond  in  the 
future.  People  might  clamor,  and  they  did  clamor — 
but  Booth  was  willing  to  abide  by  the  ill-humor 
which  often  showed  itself  openly  on  this  account. 
While  on  the  stage,  he  would  brook  no  interruption 
from  his  audience.  In  America,  when  he  presented 
the  Indian  piece  "Oroonoko,"  one  evening  he  noticed 
some  restlessness  caused  by  a  particular  person ;  he 
waited  until  after  he  had,  in  his  assumed  role,  killed 
himself ;  then  he  got  up  quietly,  walked  to  the  front 
of  the  stage,  and  pointed  with  his  finger  toward  the 
culprit,  thundering  forth :  "I'll  serve  you  as  General 
Jackson  did;  I'll  veto  you!"  This  stopped  the  an- 
noyance, but  created  a  momentary  ripple  among 
those  present.  The  President's  famous  veto  messages 
were  then  the  talk  of  the  country.  Another  instance, 
which  did  not  take  the  actor  outside  of  his  picture, 
occurred  while  playing  Brutus  in  Payne's  "The 
Fall  of  Tarquin,"  in  Richmond.  A  drunken  man 
made  a  noise  which  brought  Booth's  gaze  to  the  gal- 
lery; with  intent  look  and  forbidding  voice,  he  re- 
peated one  of  his  lines :  "Beware,  I  am  the  headsman, 
I  am  the  executioner,"  with  the  desired  effect. 
Looked  at  carefully,  the  whole  Booth-Kean  occur- 
rence, as  suggested  by  Hazlitt,  would  seem  to  have 
been  the  doing  of  rival  managers.  Kean  was  thor- 
oughly jealous  of  his  position,  but  at  that  time  he 
was  much  surer  of  his  footing  than  Booth  was  of 
his. 

The  unfortunate  similarity  between  the  two  did 
much  to  hamper  Booth,  who  continued  to  be  accused 
of  gross  imitation ;  still,  in  an  article  written  by  Ed- 

25 


^\)t  win,  in  later  years,  he  spoke  of  his  father's  being 

**^^^l^^    taller  than  Kean ;  their  voices  different;  and  the  man- 

^^^^^    ner  of  their  reading  utterly  dissimilar.   Gould,  in 

"The  Tragedian,"  paints  the  portrait  in  more  detail : 

Mr.  Booth  was  short,  spare,  and  muscular;  with  a  head 
and  face  of  antique  beauty ;  dark  hair ;  blue  eyes ;  a  neck 
and  chest  of  ample  but  symmetrical  mould ;  a  step  and 
movement,  elastic,  assured,  kingly.  His  face  was 
pale,  with  that  healthy  pallor  which  is  one  sign  of  a 
magnetic  brain. 

In  the  pit  of  Drury  Lane,  on  that  famous  evening 
when  the  two  tragedians  appeared  together,  the  Cow- 
den  Clarkes  were  taking  notes  for  their  "Recollections 
of  Writers";  Hazlitt  occupied  the  post  of  dramatic 
critic;  Godwin,  the  father-in-law  of  Shelley,  was 
rushing  around  and  exclaiming,  "This  is  a  night  to 
be  remembered";  while  John  Howard  Payne  was 
noting  the  unparalleled  contest.  The  latter  recorded  : 

I  saw  Booth  in  the  part  of  lago  to  Kean's  Othello. 
The  house  was  packed  from  pit  to  gallery;  it  was  a 
great  performance  and  a  grand  sight.  The  new  little 
man  behaved  himself  like  a  great  hero.  Kean  seemed 
to  feel  the  force  of  the  newcomer  and  performed  up  to 
the  full  height  of  his  wonderful  powers.  In  the  jealous 
scene,  their  acting  appeared  like  a  set  trial  of  skill,  and 
the  applause  that  followed  the  end  of  each  of  their 
speeches  swept  over  the  house  like  a  tornado.  The 
effect  was  almost  bewildering.  At  the  end  of  the  play 
both  of  the  actors  appeared  to  be  exhausted  from  the 
extraordinary  effort  they  had  made. 

Hazlitt  commented  as  follows,  on  February  13, 
1 81 7:  "His  [Booth's]  delineation  of  lago  is  more 
bustling  and  animated;  Mr.  Kean's  is  more  close 
and  cool." 

The  furor  practically  burned  itself  out  by  its  sudden 
intensity.  Each  actor  gained  points  and  lost  points, 
but  some  time  was  yet  to  pass  before  Booth  deter- 
mined to  sail  for  America.  For  he  had  still  to 
26 


answer  the  charge  of  imitation  made  against  him,  ^h» 
and  since  the  critics  were  not  willing  to  acknowl-  " 
edge  his  Richard  and  his  Sir  Giles  Overreach  as  QBOOt^jS 
original  conceptions,  then  he  would  attempt  a  role 
never  before  undertaken  by  Kean.  On  the  evening 
of  March  15th  "Cymbeline"  was  presented,  with 
Booth  as  Posthumus,  and  Kemble  as  Polydore. 
The  critics  now  commented  on  the  actor's  lack 
of  grace,  though  they  praised  his  naturalness  and 
his  reserve.  The  fact  was  that  Booth  was  bandy- 
legged, and  one  night,  so  the  story  runs,  a  buffoon  in 
the  gallery  cried  out :  "Ah,  ha !  you're  a  pretty  fellow 
to  stop  a  pig."  This  physical  defect  naturally  took 
away  from  his  inches ;  never  during  his  entire  career 
would  Booth  allow  himself  to  assume  a  role  where 
the  physique  was  beyond  him.  Once  Wemyss  forced 
him  to  play  Richelieu,  despite  his  objections  that 
the  Cardinal  was  stately  in  figure.  But  when  the  time 
arrived.  Booth  chagrined  his  manager  and  sur- 
prised the  audience  by  waltzing  upon  the  stage  in 
the  Cardinal's  red.  Truly  actors  took  liberties  in 
those  days! 

Undaunted  and  energetic,  Booth  soon  departed  from 
Covent  Garden  and  went  on  tour.  We  find  him  play- 
ing in  one  day  at  three  different  places,  the  hours  of 
eleven,  four,  and  eight  marking  the  intervals  be- 
tween each  performance.  Only  two  months  after  his 
battle  royal,  he  created  his  famous  role  of  Sir 
Edward  Mortimer,  in  "The  Iron  Chest,"  and  then 
appeared  as  Shylock,  speaking  in  the  Hebrew 
tongue. 

Though  in  religion  he  himself  was  non-sectarian, 
the  elder  Booth  was  regarded  as  a  Jew ;  his  daughter, 
Mrs.  Clarke,  has  written  that  he  conversed  with 
rabbis  and  learned  doctors,  and  joined  with  them  in 
their  worship.  Indeed,  the  family,  according  to  some 
records,  was  of  Spanish  extraction,  and  originally 
spelled  their  name  "Beth."  Booth  could  read  the 

27 


tILllC  Talmud,  he  admired  the  Koran,   he  argued  with 

Roman  CathoUc  fathers  on  doctrinal  points,  and  no 

i300tQ)Ei  man  was  better  versed  in  Bible  lore  generally.  Indeed, 
many  have  exclaimed  over  the  power  and  beauty  of 
his  delivery  from  the  Great  Book,  and  this  recalls 
Edwin's  reading  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  with  that  pro- 
fundity and  quivering  richness  of  voice  which  never 
failed  to  bring  tears  to  the  eyes  of  those  who  were 
fortunate  enough  to  hear  him.  Neither  father  nor  son 
cared,  when  called  upon  outside,  to  render  any  of 
their  stage  dialogue.  Sometimes,  in  the  excess  of  pure 
literary  deUght,  the  elder  Booth  would  invest  "The 
Ancient  Mariner"  with  all  the  gruesomeness  and  dark 
foreboding  which  Coleridge's  ballad  suggests. 
In  no  respect,  during  this  initial  period,  was  the  elder 
Booth  to  be  stayed  in  his  undertakings.  He  set  at 
defiance  the  royal  patent  conferred  upon  Drury 
Lane  and  Covent  Garden,  a  patent  which  gave  them 
the  exclusive  privilege  of  playing  Shakespeare ;  he 
would  not  deign  to  follow  the  example  of  the  smaller 
theatres,  which  evaded  the  law,  even  as  we  some- 
times do  now,  by  curtailing  the  text  here,  changing 
there,  and  introducing  extraneous  matter  every- 
where. He  presented  the  "accepted"  version  of 
"Richard  III"  outside  the  royal  lines — assuredly  a 
dramatic  emancipator! 

Booth  was  not  "driven"  to  America,  although,  as  the 
years  passed,  he  must  have  felt  the  strain  of 
what  had  occurred.  In  1820  he  played  Brutus  in 
Payne's  "The  Fall  of  Tarquin,"  and  then  Harris,  of 
Covent  Garden,  persuaded  him  to  attempt  "King 
Lear,"  which  had  not  been  seen  in  England  for  many 
a  day,  on  account  of  the  madness  of  George  III.  But 
now  the  King  was  dead — Long  live  the  King!  and 
on  April  13,  1820,  a  selected  cast  acted  the  tragedy; 
Charles  Kemble  was  Edgar,  Macready  was  Ed- 
mund, and  Miss  Sally  Booth,  whose  attitude  toward 
her  supposed  rival  was  now  changed  to  one  of 
28 


awe,  was  Cordelia.  These  days  of  travel  were  spent    /prup 
largely   in   stage-coaches,   as    tour   followed   tour.     ^^^ 
There  was   certain  irony  in  the  fact   that   shortly    1300tl^Sl 
before  Kean  sailed  for  America,  he  again  appeared 
with  Booth  on  the  London  boards. 
Under  the  famous  Elliston,  at  Drury  Lane,  Booth  pre- 
sented  an  American    drama,    "Opechancanough." 
The  title  is  suflficiently  descriptive  of   this  type  of 
Indian  play  to  which  it  belonged;  and  he  also  ap- 
peared as  Cassius  to  James  W.  Wallack's  Brutus 
in  "Julius  Caesar." 

On  January  i8,  1821,  Booth  left  London  with  Mary 
Anne  Holmes  as  his  wife,  and  it  was  while  on  a  trip 
to  Madeira  with  her  that  he  suddenly  took  passage 
for  America,  in  the  "Two  Brothers."  After  a  forty- 
days'  sail  they  landed  in  Norfolk,  Virginia,  on  June 
30,  1821.  Here  a  few  nights  after,  Booth's  career 
was  practically  begun  over  again,  in  "Richard  IH." 
He  had  brought  with  him  no  letters  of  introduction ; 
there  were  even  some  doubts  as  to  whether  he  was  the 
"real"  Booth,  v/hose  fame  had  preceded  him  across 
the  ocean,  or  some  impudent  adventurer  who  wanted 
to  deceive  the  Southern  theatre-goers.  However  that 
may  be,  he  was  engaged  for  the  Richmond  Theatre, 
by  Manager  Gilfert.  He  divided  his  time  between 
Petersburg  and  Richmond,  and  if  the  stage-coach 
broke  down,  as  it  did  on  many  an  occasion,  he  would 
walk  the  distance  remaining,  to  either  place.  Ap- 
pearing in  "The  Iron  Chest"  one  evening,  so  power- 
ful and  magnificent  was  Booth's  portrayal  that  he 
stunned  a  young  actor  into  silence  during  a  great 
scene,  and,  in  an  undertone,  was  obUged  to  waken 
him  into  action.  James  E.  Murdoch  has  left  an  amus- 
ing and  graphic  pen  picture  of  the  time  he  played  the 
poor  Secretary  to  Booth's  Sir  Edward;  the  master 
discovers  Wilf ord  on  his  knees  before  a  secret  chest : 

The  heavy  hand  fell  on  my  shoulder.     I  turned,  and 
there,  with  the  pistol  held  to  my  head,  stood  Booth, 

29 


glaring  like  an  infuriated  demon.  Then  for  the  first 
time  I  comprehended  the  reality  of  acting.  The  fury 
of  that  passion-flamed  face,  and  the  magnetism  of  the 
rigid  clutch  upon  my  arm,  paralysed  my  muscles,  while 
the  scintillating  gleam  of  the  terrible  eyes,  like  the 
green  and  red  flashes  of  an  enraged  serpent,  fascinated 
and  fixed  me  spellbound  to  the  spot.  A  sudden  revul- 
sion of  feeling  caused  me  to  spring  to  my  feet,  but,  be- 
wildered by  fright  and  a  choking  sensation  of  unde- 
fined dread,  I  fell  heavily  to  the  stage,  tripping  Mr. 
Booth,  who  still  clutched  my  shoulder. 

The  great  actor  regained  his  feet,  but  Murdoch  was 
well-nigh  powerless,  and  it  was  only  Booth's  kind 
yet  quick  treatment  that  saved  the  situation. 
This  incident  only  supports  what  has  been  generally 
stated  concerning  Booth's  method  of  acting ;  "he  was 
so  much  in  earnest  upon  the  stage,  that  when  there 
was  any  fighting  to  be  done,  actors  and  actresses 
were  afraid  of  him." 

Fortunately  the  contrast  of  his  emotions  was  distinct, 
for  if  his  "expression  of  terror  and  remorse  were 
painful  in  the  extreme,"  and  "his  hatred  and  re- 
venge were  devilish,"  as  Edwin  Booth  hcj  written, 
on  the  other  hand  "his  tenderness  was  exquisitely 
human." 

Murdoch,  as  though  framing  some  slim  basis  of  an 
excuse  for  his  stage  fright,  which  was  really  a  trib- 
ute to  Booth's  work,  wrote  further  in  his  book, 
"The  Stage" : 

There  was  something  peculiar  abou*  him  [Booth]  that 
acted  like  a  charm  and  commanded  the  respect  and 
won  the  esteem  of  all  whose  advances  he  encouraged ; 
but  he  was,  nevertheless,  generally  undemonstrative 
and  shy.  A  morbid  tendency  of  feeling,  which  gave 
rise  to  wild  and  defiant  moods,  led  him  at  times  to 
things  at  variance  with  the  conventionalities  of  society, 
and  entirely  opposed  to  his  well-known  gentlemanly 
character ;  and  these  eccentricities  caused  coldness  and 
reserve  both  with  himself  and  his  friends. 

After  appearing  in  New  York,  Booth  toured  the 
South  as  far  as  New  Orleans,  and  it  was  while  in 

30 


EDWIN    BOOTH    AS    HAMLET. 


Charleston  that  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  Jr.,  was  bom.  Whp 
There  were  ten  children,  only  three  of  whom  adopted  ^"'' 
the  stage  as  a  profession.  ^OOthjS 

The  year  1822  was  diversified,  both  in  desire  and  in 
occupation.  Despite  his  stage  success.  Booth  at  this 
time  entertained  ideas  of  becoming  a  lighthouse 
keeper,  and  would  probably  have  undertaken  the 
charge  if  the  offer  had  gone  through.  But  on  May  6th, 
he  was  making  his  debut  before  a  Boston  public,  and 
while  there  attempted  "Hamlet,"  wherein,  so  it  was 
said,  he  exhibited  an  unparalleled  example  of  the 
perfect  delivery  of  the  soliloquy.  The  part  was  not, 
however,  suited  to  his  temper;  he  exhibited  neither 
dignity  nor  "contemplative  seriousness."  In  1822 
also.  Booth  purchased  "The  Farm,"  in  Harford 
County,  Maryland,  situated  some  miles  from  Balti- 
more, and  throughout  his  life,  whenever  opportunity 
was  favorable,  he  came  there  for  rest  and  quiet. 
There  it  was  that  Richard  Booth,  his  father,  at  last 
arrived  from  England,  and  helped  keep  the  place  in 
order  while  his  son  was  away.  A  coach  road  passed 
"The  Farm,"  and  accounts  thus  picture  the  scene: 
"Along  this  stony  highway,  the  post-boy  used  to  ride 
once  a  week,  sounding  his  horn,  and  tossing  the 
ever-welcome  letters  and  papers  over  the  gate." 
It  was  a  rare  home,  where  farming  went  side  by  side 
with  intellectual  pursuits.  The  library  of  Junius 
Brutus  Booth  contained  an  assortment  of  volumes, — 
Shelley,  Keats,  Coleridge,  Racine,  Alfieri,  Tasso, 
Dante,  Burton's  "Anatomy,"  Plutarch,  Milton, 
Shakespeare,  the  Koran,  Locke  on  "Human  Under- 
standing," and  Paley's  Theology  being  conspicuous 
on  the  shelves.  In  such  an  atmosphere,  around  1839, 
Richard  Booth  conceived  the  idea  of  translating  the 
"iEneid,"  and  had  progressed  far  in  the  work,  with 
some  view  of  preparing  a  stage  version,  when  his 
death  occurred. 
On  the  evening  of  February  17, 1823,  Booth  made  his 

31 


^hc  first  appearance  at  the  Philadelphia  Chestnut  Street 

"  Theatre   as   Richard,  and  playing  with   him  were 

'BOOt^jEi  WilUam  Warren,  Henry  Wallack,  T.  Jefferson,  J. 
Jefferson,  and  Mrs.  Jefferson.  Throughout  stage 
history,  the  interrelation  of  family  with  family  is 
marked. 

Booth  returned  to  Europe  twice;  first  in  the  year 
1825,  when  he  wrote  back  to  his  father:  "Kean  sails 
the  day  after  to-morrow,  by  the  'Silas  Richards,' 
for  New  York.  Strange  that  he  should  meet  me  here 
— he  ready  to  embark,  and  to  that  very  country  I 
have  just  left!  ...  I  passed  an  hour  with  him  last 
night  at  his  quarters,  and  reconciled  our  ancient  mis- 
understanding." 

It  would  seem  that  this  reconciliation  was  more 
painful  in  its  happiness  than  these  words  would  ad- 
mit; it  undoubtedly  left  in  each  a  sentiment  that 
showed  itself  on  the  occasion  of  Kean's  final  appear- 
ance in  America,  when  Booth  went  behind  the  scenes 
to  speak  with  him,  and  aided  his  old  enemy  in  un- 
dressing. What  passed  between  them  is  best  left  to 
the  imagination. 

"Once,  and  only  once,"  wrote  Edwin  Booth,  "my 
father  gave  me  a  glimpse  of  his  reminiscences ;  on  that 
occasion,  he,  who  seldom  spoke  of  actors  or  the  theatre, 
told  me  that  in  his  opinion,  no  mortal  man  could  equal 
Kean  in  the  rendering  of  Othello's  despair  and  rage ; 
and  that  above  all,  his  not  very  melodious  voice  in  many 
passages,  notably  that  ending  with  'Farewell,  Othel- 
lo's occupation's  gone,'  sounded  Uke  the  moan  of 
ocean,  or  the  soughing  of  wind  through  cedars." 

It  was  while  abroad  that  Booth  declined  to  play  in 

rivalry  with   Macready;   he   had   had    competition 

enough  perhaps ;  under  the  management  of  the  elder 

Macready,  he  acted  before  the  Prince  of  Orange  at 

Amsterdam,  and  thence  travelled  elsewhere  on  the 

Continent. 

While  on  his  homeward  voyage  in  1827,  Booth's 

32 


life  was  endangered  by  a  lunatic,  who  rushed  upon     Whp^ 

him  with  an  axe ;  but  the  distraught  man  was  kept         " 

from  violence  by  the  actor,  who  "fixed"  him  with     15D0t]^JSJ 

his  eye.  It  was  on  this  trip  also,  that  pacing  the  deck, 

he  familiarized  himself  with  Italian.  In  the  course 

of  his  life,  Booth  became  master  of  Greek,  Latin, 

French,  German,  Spanish,  Arabic,  and  Hebrew. 

The  remaining  part  of  the  year  1827  was  devoted  to 

his  repertoire,  and  to  two  new  plays :  "The  Bride  of 

Abydos"  was  one,  and  the  ever  popular  "Apostate," 

written  by  Shiel,  was  the  other.  Then,  in  1828,  he 

undertook  the  management  of  a  New  Orleans  theatre, 

and  on  February  19,  of  that  year,  having  perfected 

himself  in  several  French  plays,  he  was  persuaded 

to  present  Racine's  "Andromaque"  in  the  original, 

himself  playing  Orestes  with  great  effect. 

"His  accentuation  was  so  perfect,"  says  a  critic  of  the 
day,  "and  every  peculiarity  of  French  acting  so  minutely 
observed  by  him,  that  the  astonishment.and  delight^was 
general.  At  the  close,  he  was  loudly  called  for  and  cries 
of  'Talma!  Talma!'  saluted  him  amid  every  sound  of 
applause  and  approbation." 

The  months  that  followed  found  Booth  visiting 
General  Jackson,  acting  with  Forrest,  and  appear- 
ing as  the  First  Flayer  to  Charles  Kean's  Ham- 
let. In  this  small  part,  he  worked  with  such  force 
as  to  elicit  cheers  from  the  audience,  which  rose 
en  masse  in  its  enthusiasm.  During  the  season  of 
183 1  his  repertoire  contained  a  variety  of  roles, 
such  as  Falkland,  in  "The  Rivals,"  Richard  II, 
and  Hotspur.  It  was  this  very  diversity  which  dis- 
tinguished the  great  actors  of  the  past,  and  which 
exercised  their  ingenuity  as  well  as  their  ability. 
Only  once  was  Richard  Booth  obliged  to  leave  "The 
Farm,"  and  then  to  use  his  knowledge  of  the  law 
in  his  son's  behalf.  It  was  about  the  time  that  domes- 
tic trials  weighed  heavily  upon  the  tragedian,  in  the 
death  of  three  of  his  children;  and  that  signs  of  his 

33 


ILDt 


mental  derangement  were  becoming  manifest.  In 
some  way  he  could  not  fill  a  contract  with  Hamblin, 
13OOtl)0  tbe  manager,  who  brought  suit  against  him.  But 
travelling  to  Philadelphia,  in  company  with  his 
faithful  negro  bodyguard,  one  servant,  Richard 
Booth  settled  the  matter  to  the  satisfaction  of  both 
parties. 

Gould  witnessed  Booth's  Lear,  in  Boston,  1835, 
and  wrote : 

The  blue  eye,  the  white  beard,  the  nose  in  profile,  keen 
as  the  curve  of  a  falchion,  the  ringing  utterances  of  the 
names  Regan,  Goneril,  the  close  pent-up  passion 
striving  for  expression,  the  kingly  energy,  the  affecting 
recognition  of  Cordelia  in  the  last  act„made  a  deep 
impression  on  our  boyish  mind. 

Again,  in  1836,  Booth  went  to  Europe,  filling 
various  engagements;  and  when  on  his  return  he 
toured  North  and  South,  his  unsound  mentality  and 
nervous  temperament  were  more  marked  still.  He 
was  once  saved  from  drowning,  after  having  thrown 
himself  into  the  sea,  prompted  by  a  wild  idea  that  he 
was  carrying  a  message  to  a  friend.  Dragged  aboard, 
he  was  as  suddenly  taken  with  fear  lest  the  boat 
should  upset.  He  was  carried  to  Charleston,  where, 
during  his  stay,  he  broke  his  nose,  thus  disfiguring 
his  face,  and  adding  a  twang  to  his  otherwise  rich 
voice.  Cook  wrote : 

Booth's  voice  was  a  "most  miraculous  organ";  "it 
transcended  music" ;  it  was  .guided  by  a  method  which 
defied  the  set  rules  of* elocution;  it  brought  "airs  from 
heaven  and  blasts  from  hell" ;  but  it  was  marked  by  one 
significant  limitation — it  had  no  mirth — there  were 
tones  of  light,  but  none  of'levity. 

During  these  tours,  Booth  managed  to  make  inter- 
mittent journeys  to  "The  Farm."  Once,  his  company, 
travelling  by  coach  to  a  neighboring  town,  met  with 
an  accident,  which  necessitated  their  stopping  at 

34 


Booth's  over-night.  The  servants,  most  of  them  slaves,  'gTh^ 
stared  in  open-eyed  wonder  at  the  motley  crowd,  and       " 
stored  away  memories  to  enlarge  upon  in  future  05OOt]^)Sl 
years;  while    the  player-folk  themselves  marvelled 
much  at  the  domesticity  of  it  all.  "Gad !"  exclaimed 
one,  "how  can  you  exist  in  such  a  wilderness!"  But 
the  home  was  scarcely  ever  out  of  Booth's  mind.  His 
letters  to  his  father  are  a  peculiar  blend  of  the  prac- 
tical with  the  philosophical.  A  passage  most  quoted 
is  also  the  one  most  characteristic,  revealing  the 
spirit  that  prompted  him  to  become  a  vegetarian : 

Let  Joe  [the  servant]  sow  the  timothy  in  the  meadow. 
Tell  Junius  [his  eldest  son]  not  to  go  opossum  hunting 
or  setting  rabbit-traps,  but  let  the  poor  devils  Uve. 
Cruelty  is  the  offspring  of  idleness  of  mind  and  beastly 
ignorance,  and,  in  children,  should  be  repressed  and 
not  encouraged  as  is  too  often  the  case  by  unthinking 
beings  who  surround  them.  .  .  .  The  ideas  of  Pythagoras 
I  have  adopted;  and  as  respects  our  accountability  to 
animals  hereafter,  nothing  that  man  can  preach  can 
make  me  believe  to  the  contrary.  "Every  death  its  own 
avenger  breeds."  Enough  of  this.  I  think  there  is  some 
parsnip  seed  hanging  in  a  paper  by  the  looking-glass  in 
the  parlour.  Let  Joe  sow  some  in  small  trenches  in  the 
garden — say  three  or  four  rows. 

Edwin  was  bom  at  "The  Farm"  on  November  13, 
1833,  well-omened  by  a  night  of  meteoric  showers. 
He  was  named  Edwin,  after  Forrest,  and  Thomas, 
after  Flynn.  Here  our  greatest  Hamlet  grew  up, 
obtaining  but  a  very  superficial  education.  This  fact 
was  referred  to  with  some  bitter  regret  in  a  letter  to 
his  daughter  Edwina,  penned  on  Shakespeare's 
birthday,  April  23,  1876  : 

When  I  was  at  Eton  (I  don't  refer  now  to  the  dinner- 
table)  my  Greek  and  Latin  were  of  such  a  superior 
quality  that  had  it  not  been  for  an  unforeseen  accident, 
I  would  have  carried  off  all  the  honors.  The  accident 
lay  in  this— I  never  went  to  school  there  except  in 
dreams.  .  .  .  I  have  suffered  so  much  from  the  lack  of 
that  which  my  father  could  easily  have  given  me  in 

35 


^|ir  youth,  and  which  he  himself  possessed,  that  I  am  all 

the  more  anxious  you  shall  escape  my  punishment  in 

l300ti^)Sl  t^a*  respect. 

Still,  in  the  face  of  this  regret,  we  gather  from  reli- 
able sources  that  Dame  Susan  Hyde  taught  the  boy 
his  letters;  that  Louis  Dugas,  a  Frenchman,  together 
with  a  West  Indian  naval  officer,  carried  him  even 
farther  along  the  road  of  knowledge ;  and  that  even 
farther  still,  he  studied  at  a  small  university,  where 
the  professor  wrote  the  text-books  used  by  his  pupils. 
His  close  association  with  his  father  made  young 
Booth,  at  an  early  age,  exhibit  an  unusual  amount  of 
gravity,  which  increased  with  the  years ;  for  he  was 
never  known  to  laugh  heartily,  and  his  smile  was 
always  tinged  with  sadness. 

In  early  years  Edwin  and  John  S.  Clarke,  each 
dressed  in  white  linen  trousers  and  black  jackets, 
recited  before  their  school.  The  father,  Junius,  crept 
in  the  room  to  see  the  miniature  Cassius  and  Bru- 
tus do  their  parts.  During  these  months,  Edwin  was 
being  taught  the  violin  and  the  banjo.  Again,  in  1850, 
he  and  Clarke  came  together  and  gave  a  reading  at 
the  Belair  Courthouse ;  along  the  streets  of  this  coun- 
ty town  darkies  v/ere  sent  to  post  bills ;  no  matter  if 
placed  upside  down,  the  folks  must  stand  on  their 
heads  to  read  the  classic  repertoire  these  two  had 
determined  upon  giving!  In  those  days  Booth  v/ith 
blackened  face  sang  negro  melodies,  and  even  at- 
tempted, unsuccessfully,  the  art  of  pantomime. 
John  Sleeper  Clarke,  or  Clarke  Sleeper,  as  it  was 
originally,  was  bom  on  September  3,  1833.  At  the 
express  desire  of  his  mother  he  studied  law,  and  ac- 
tually entered  a  law  office ;  but  thus  early  in  life  he 
had  shown  histrionic  keenness,  and  in  1851  he  began 
his  career  in  "Paul  Pry"  at  the  Boston  Howard 
Athenaeum.  His  success  was  quick  and  his  rise 
rapid,  for  in  1853  he  succeeded  the  elder  Drew  as 
leading  comedian  at  the  Philadelphia  Chestnut  Street 

36 


Theatre.  In  1858  he  became  mauager,  with  William     -gri*#> 
Wheatley,  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre.  His  tempera-     ^^^ 
ment  was  a  strange  infusion  with  that  of  the  Booth     ^OOtbjS 
family,  when  he  married  Edwin's  sister  Asia  in  1859. 
Clarke  was  a  comedian  whose  genius  crossed  with 
that  of  Jefferson,  touched  that  of  E.  A.  Sothern,  and 
supported  that  of  Drew.  Yet  he  was  destined  to  be 
intimately  associated  with  Booth  in  his  many  at- 
tempts at  theatrical  management.  When,  in  October, 
1867,  Clarke  went  abroad,  he  had  won  an  enviable 
position  for  himself,  and  he  remained  in  London  for 
over  two   years,   playing   Dr.   Pangloss  and   Too- 
dles,  as  well  as  winning  reputation  as  Major  Well- 
ington de  Boots.  His  return  to  New  York  in   1870 
was  in  the  way  of  a  triumph.  William  Stuart  wrote : 

Mr.  Clarke  possesses  an  innate,  pliant  mobility  that 
enables  him  momentarily  to  assume  a  certain  condi- 
tion of  humanity.  The  elasticity  of  his  faculty,  his  na- 
tive humor  and  power  of  mimicry, — the  mimicry  of 
character,  and  modes  of  thought  and  feeling,  not  of 
personal  peculiarities  merely,  and  of  the  various  forms 
and  degrees  of  natural  drollery — have  always  given 
variety  to  his  acting. 

In  1849  Edwin  made  his  first  appearance  in  the  part 
of  Tressel,  while  Booth  was  giving  "Richard  III" 
in  Boston.  The  father  at  first  strongly  opposed  the 
idea  of  his  becoming  an  actor;  in  fact,  he  made  it  a 
rule  to  avoid  stage  topics,  in  conversation  before  his 
children,  whose  theatre-going  was  most  rigorously 
regulated. 

Once  launched,  however,  Edwin  appeared  as  Ed- 
gar in  "King  Lear,"  Cassio  in  "Othello,"  and 
Wilford  in  "The  Iron  Chest."  Then,  in  1 851,  while 
in  New  York,  an  evening  arrived  when  the  elder 
Booth  suddenly  complained  of  indisposition,  and 
sent  Edwin  to  assume  his  role  in  "Richard  III." 
Very  likely  the  father  was  not  really  ill,  but  wished 
to  put  his  son's  mettle  to  the  test ;  he  himself  went 

37 


€^c 


into  the  auditorium  to  witness  the  experiment.  It 
was  a  complete  success,  for  after  the  first  disap- 
^OOtl^jSl  pointment  over  not  seeing  "the"  Booth— a  disap- 
pointment he  had  once  himself  caused  when  he 
took  the  place  of  Kean— the  audience  received 
Edwin's  Monarch  with  great  applause. 
Now  came  further  signs  of  the  father's  mental 
breakdown.  While  playing  one  evening  in  "The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice"  with  James  E.  Murdoch  and  Jean 
Davenport,  the  call-boy  searched  in  vain  for  the  elder 
Booth ;  the  play  was  in  progress,  and  he  was  nowhere 
to  be  found.  Not  until  the  very  moment  for  Shy- 
lock's  entrance  did  the  actor  reveal  himself ,  and  then 
he  walked  out  from  a  dark  scene-closet  where  he  had 
been  secluded.  This  may  have  been  only  an  instance 
of  the  care  Booth  always  took  to  avoid  distraction 
and  to  steep  himself  in  the  atmosphere  of  his  r61e. 
Yet  just  so  easily  as  he  could  be  disturbed  by  those 
around  him  could  he  hkewise,  during  the  progress 
of  his  play,  throw  aside  and  pick  up  his  assumed 
passion  with  perfect  ease.  Often  he  would  be  in  the 
midst  of  an  anecdote,  when  he  would  be  called  to 
"go  on" ;  he  would  act  a  violent  scene,  and  then 
returning  to  the  "wings,"  would  seek  his  man  and 
continue  his  story  where  he  had  left  off.  He  had  both 
the  power  of  detachment  and  of  identification.  Of 
the  latter  characteristic  Edwin  Booth  wrote : 

If  "Othello"  was  billed  for  the  evening,  he  would,  per- 
haps, wear  a  crescent  pin  on  his  breast  that  day;  or, 
disregarding  the  fact  that  Shakespeare's  Moor  was  a 
Christian,  he  would  mumble  maxims  of  the  Koran.  .  .  . 
If  Shylock  was  to  be  his  part  at  night,  he  was  a  Jew 
all  day. 

In  the  spring  of  1852,  with  Edwin,  and  at  the  instiga- 
tion of  his  son  Junius  Brutus,  the  tragedian  set  sail 
for  CaUfomia,  where  he  played  in  San  Francisco  and 
Sacramento,  finally  returning  on  his  homeward  voy- 
age the  following  November.  He  was  alone  now — 
38 


for  Edwin  had  been  left  behind,  and  stopping  at  New    "STTir 
Orleans,  he  gave  his  last  performance,  playing  "The 
Iron  Chest,"  on  November  19,  1852.  He  then  took    'BOOtl^J^^ 
passage  on  a  steamboat  bound  for  Cincinnati,  and 
died  while  on  board,  November  30,  his  last  words 
being,  "Pray,  pray,  pray." 

When  Rufus  Choate  heard  of  the  tragedian's  death 
he  cried  out,  "There  are  no  more  actors!"  The  re- 
mains of  Junius  Brutus  Booth  were  taken  finally  to 
Greenmount  Cemetery,  Baltimore,  where  a  stone, 
erected  in  1858  by  Edwin,  marks  the  spot. 
Many  and  various  are  the  anecdotes  told  of  the  elder 
Booth ;  a  man  looked  upon  as  eccentric  usually  be- 
comes the  centre  of  many  possible  and  impossible 
vagaries.  Worldly  oddities,  even  though  accentuated 
by  a  streak  of  insanity,  often  tend  to  obscure  the  sub- 
tler side  of  character,  and  it  is  this  subtle  side  which 
the  elder  Booth  was  fortunate  to  possess  in  a 
marked  degree.  He  appears  before  us  as  a  scholar, 
as  a  philanthropist,  as  a  man  who  clings,  even  as  his 
son  did  throughout  his  life,  to  the  sacredness  of 
home — though  his  profession  kept  him  away  from 
its  shelter.  The  friend  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  so 
was  he  the  champion  of  the  lowliest.  From  all  ac- 
counts, he  must  have  been  an  odd  mixture  of  the 
aristocrat  and  the  democrat.  Did  he  not  try  once  to 
save  a  thief  from  the  gallows,  which  action  was  re- 
warded by  the  strange  bequest  of  the  criminal's 
skull?  This  very  skull  was  used  by  Edwin,  during  a 
performance  of  "Hamlet"  in  1857 ;  and  the  whole 
incident  recalls  a  bullet,  which  the  son  had  mounted 
in  a  gold  cartridge  and  etched  with  the  inscription, 
"From  Mark  Gray  to  Edwin  Booth,  April  23,  1879." 
For  on  that  evening  the  actor  was  playing  "Rich- 
ard n,"  a  part  where  the  facial  expression  was 
always  modelled  after  the  likeness  of  a  picture  of 
Christ,  when  three  pistol  shots  were  fired  at  him. 
With  great  presence  of  mind,  Booth  stepped  to  the 

39 


"^X^t 


footlights  and  pointed  out  his  would-be  assassin 
whom  he  saw  distinctly;  the  man  was  captured 
13OOtll0  while  making  his  escape.  Subsequently  he  was 
proven  to  be  insane.  Accidents  were  continually 
happening  to  the  Booths.  In  1882,  while  in  Scotland, 
Edwin  was  stabbed  in  the  right  arm  by  an  over- 
realistic  Laertes, 

With  the  death  of  the  father  interest  at  once  centred 
upon  his  son  Edwin,  who  was  destined  to  become,  at 
no  distant  date,  the  principal  tragic  figure  on  the 
American  stage.  As  contrasted  with  Forrest,  William 
Winter  says : 

Forrest,  although  he  had  a  spark  of  genius,  was  in- 
trinsically and  essentially  animal.  Booth  was  intellec- 
tual and  spiritual.  Forrest  attained  his  popularity,  and 
the  bulk  of  his  large  fortune,  by  impersonating  the  In- 
dian chieftain,  Metamora.  Booth  gained  and  held  his 
eminence,  by  acting  Hamlet  and  Richelieu. 

It  was  in  California  that  Edwin  Booth's  brilliant 
career  began.  There  it  was  that  he  acted  Hamlet 
and  lago  for  the  first  time ;  but  it  was  not  all  plain 
sailing,  for  he  was  confronted  by  the  usual  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  beginner.  We  find  two  pictures  of  him 
that  amply  illustrate  this.  At  the  time  of  his  father's 
death,  he  was  playing  in  Nevada.  The  company  were 
in  disastrous  straits;  they  all  came  very  near  starv- 
ing, and  many  of  them  had  to  trudge  back,  through 
the  deep  snow,  to  the  nearest  town  which  lay  along 
the  direct  line  of  communication  with  San  Fran- 
cisco. At  another  time  Booth  was  obliged  to  travel 
from  place  to  place  on  horseback,  followed  by  his 
company,  perched  upon  the  wagons  which  con- 
tained the  stage  properties.  The  penniless  condition 
of  these  players  was  suspiciously  regarded  by  the 
people,  and  furthermore,  the  ill-favor  was  added  to 
by  the  fact  that  no  sooner  had  they  left  a  certain 
town  than  fire  almost  immediately  broke  out  in  some 
obscure  corner  where  they  had  been  seen. 
40 


Under  the  management  of  his  brother  Junius,  Edwin    '^h^ 
appeared  at  San  Francisco  Hall  in  farces  and  bur-  , 

lesques ;  he  even  was  known  to  do  minstrel  turns.  A  JOOOt^p 
short  while  after,  he  attempted  the  role  of  Petru- 
chio,  and  finally  Richard  III,  which  latter  part 
proved  his  first  substantial  success.  The  Thespian 
crooked-back  has  made  many  an  actor.  The  char- 
acter affords  ample  contrasts  of  emotions  and  motives, 
and  has  enough  of  the  martial  in  its  make-up  to 
be  within  reach  of  any  player  whose  greatness 
has  not  yet  matured.  San  Francisco  rang  with  the 
praises  of  young  Booth's  performance,  and  when, 
shortly  afterwards,  he  acted  Hamlet  at  his  own 
benefit,  his  triumph  was  complete.  That  evening  he 
considered  as  the  fulfillment  of  a  pledge.  For  a  few 
years  before,  while  playing  in  "Venice  Preserved" 
with  his  father,  the  costume  worn  by  Edwin  as  Jaf- 
fier  was  similar  in  tone  and  general  appearance  to 
that  usually  worn  by  the  melancholy  Dane.  The  sim- 
ilarity evidently  appealed  to  Junius  Brutus,  for  he 
turned  abruptly  to  his  son :  "You  must  play  Ham- 
let at  your  benefit,"  he  said. 

Edwin's  next  move  was  an  adventurous  trip  to  the 
islands  in  the  Pacific  and  to  Australia,  where  he  was 
supported  by  Laura  Keene.  While  in  the  Sandwich 
Islands,  the  Court  happened  to  be  in  mourning.  King 
Kamehameha  IV  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  see 
Booth  as  Richard,  but  on  the  other  hand  he  was 
loath  to  let  his  subjects  find  him  at  a  place  of  amuse- 
ment. So  he  sat  behind  the  scenes  on  Richard's 
throne,  watching  the  three  hours'  traffic  of  the  stage, 
and  was  ignominiously  deposed  whenever  the  throne 
was  wanted  as  a  stage  property.  Booth  once  more 
returned  to  CaUfornia.  He  was  adding  rapidly  to  his 
repertoire  such  roles  as  Shylock,  Claude  Melnotte, 
and  Benedick;  besides  attempting  the  Tate  version 
of  "King  Lear."  "In  the  form  of  his  acting,"  says 
Mr.  Winter,  referring  to  this  period,  "there  were 

41 


^h^  defects,  arising  partly  from  lack   of    culture,  and 

-  partly  from  lack  of  attrition  with  intellectual  and 

1300t9Jt      refined  society." 

Booth  now  turned  eastward,  playing  in  Baltimore, 
and  thence  travelling  through  the  South.  When  he 
went  to  Boston,  he  took  the  public  by  surprise  with 
his  Sir  Giles  Overreach;  this  was  in  April,  1857, 
and  he  played  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum,  a  theatre 
managed  later  by  E.  L.  Davenport.  He  next  came  to 
New  York,  and  increased  his  repertoire  further  with 
the  roles  by  which  he  is  best  remembered.  Only  one 
of  his  parts  called  for  the  superficial  sentiment  which 
Booth  could  not  very  well  assume ;  his  Claude  Mel- 
notte  was  low  in  his  scale  of  work ;  neither  was  he 
ever  accounted  a  great  Romeo  nor  Benedick. 
Edwin  Booth  was  married  to  Mary  Devlin,  on  July  7, 
i860.  Previously  their  paths  had  crossed.  In  1858 
Edwin  had  played  in  Richmond,  Virginia,  where  a 
stock  company  contained  this  lady,  Joseph  Jeffer- 
son, and  Edwin  Adams. 

Miss  Devlin,  bom  in  1840,  was  the  daughter  of  a 
Troy  merchant,  and  had  been  trained  in  music ;  her 
d^but  was  made  in  1854,  and  what,  in  dramatic  his- 
tory, would  seem  to  be  the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  an 
actress's  life,  her  first  New  York  appearance  oc- 
curred on  June  22,  1858,  as  JuUet,  to  the  Romeo  of 
Charlotte  Cushman. 

In  i860  Booth  played  with  Miss  Cushman,  the 
two  appearing  in  "Henry  VIII,"  "Macbeth,"  "The 
Merchant  of  Venice,"  and  "Katharine  and  Petru- 
chio."  It  was  during  this  engagement  that  the  ac- 
tress remarked,  in  a  brusque  way,  which  was 
characteristic  of  her,  that,  "judging  from  Mr. 
Booth's  rehearsals  of  Macbeth,  he  must  have  had 
in  mind  a  polished  and  very  intellectual  conception 
of  the  character,  but  she  begged  him  to  remember 
that  Macbeth  was  the  grandfather  of  all  the  Bowery 
villains." 

42 


Soon  after  his  marriage  with  Mary  Devlin,  Booth    ^Up 
sailed  for  Europe,  and  in  September,  1861,  he  ap-    ^*)^ 
peared  at  the  London  Haymarket  Theatre,  under    1300tbjS 
Manager    Buckstone,    playing    Shylock.    Here    he 
found  Henry  Irving  in  a  stock  company,  and  here, 
too,  we  see  the  first  cause  of  his  not  winning  for  him- 
self unqualified  favor  in  England.  It  was  Irving  who 
was  finally  to  claim  theatrical  honors  with  Booth,  in 
America  and  in  London;  who,  to  a  certain  extent, 
was  to  prove  himself  the  Nemesis  in  the  career  of 
the  American  actor. 
Winter  writes: 

One  of  the  sweetest  of  Booth's  characteristics  was  the 
gentle  patience,  the  cheerful  resignation  with  which  he 
accepted  the  new  order  of  things  [that  is,  Irving's  evi- 
dent ascendency,  when  he  first  came  to  America].  He 
did  not  defer  to  the  new  lights  of  art.  He  did  not  believe 
in  the  new  school.  The  tradition  of  his  father  and  of 
Edmund  Kean  was  his  law.  Yet,  if  the  public  was 
drifting  away  from  that  old  faith,  he  was  content  to  be 
left  alone  at  its  altar. 

While  in  London,  Edwina,  now  Mrs.  Ignatius  Gross- 
man, was  bom.  The  strong  feeling  in  England  over 
the  Civil  War  did  much  to  hasten  Booth's  return  to 
America,  where,  in  New  York,  his  Winter  Garden 
engagement  began.  His  family  was  now  living  in 
Boston,  but  along  with  successes,  misfortunes 
seemed  to  crowd.  On  February  21,  1863,  Mrs.  Booth 
died,  leaving  a  great  void  in  the  player's  life.  She  was 
a  woman  of  keen  refinement  and  intellect,  and  she 
had  held  a  subtle  influence  over  Booth ;  she  it  was 
who  had  stopped  his  drinking,  a  weakness  more  the 
cause  of  inherited  temperament  than  acquired  taste. 
Later  on.  Booth's  detractors — and  he  had  many  — 
accused  him  of  returning  to  his  old  habit;  while 
playing  with  Salvini  one  evening  he  tripped  and  fell ; 
the  papers  were  only  too  ready  for  a  news  item  re- 
garding the  matter.  If,  in  later  years,  he  occasionally 

43 


-gri*^  sought  to  deaden  the  pain  of  memory,  events  might 

^  well-nigh  justify  the  means.  It  was  incessant  smok- 

Oi5OOt]^0    ing  that  finally  undermined  Booth's  health. 

His  grief  now  sent  the  actor  into  temporary  seclu- 
sion ;  he  was  weary  of  toil.  He  lived  for  a  while  with 
his  mother;  of  all  the  children,  Rosalie  was  the  one 
who  became  the  constant  companion  of  the  old  lady 
residing  at  Long  Branch.  "The  beauty  of  my  art 
is  gone,"  Booth  exclaimed,  "it  is  hateful  to  me — it 
has  become  a  trade."  Consider  his  repertoire,  and  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  sombreness  of  some  of  his  parts, 
the  gravity,  and  the  profound  passion  did  not  tend  to 
take  him  out  of  himself,  but  only  to  develop,  to 
heighten,  to  encourage  those  elements  in  his  nature 
which  went  to  make  up  the  man.  That  is  why  his 
Hamlet  was  not  an  "acted"  role,  but  was  Booth- 
even  as  Booth,  when  he  came  to  play  it,  was  Ham- 
let. 

George  William  Curtis,  speaking  of  this  subjective 
study,  said:  "The  cumulative  sadness  of  the  play 
was  never  so  palpable  as  in  Booth's  acting." 
Though  he  loved  his  profession  as  an  art.  Booth, 
like  so  many  others  before  and  after  him,  painted  the 
life  in  its  darkest  colors. 

However  this  may  be,  the  several  times  he  retired 
were  simply  periods  of  rest ;  the  stage  always  drew 
him  back.  So  it  was  that  he  was  rescued  from 
his  seclusion  by  his  brother-in-law,  John  S.  Clarke, 
and  with  him  purchased  the  Philadelphia  Walnut 
Street  Theatre.  Booth  retained  his  interest  in  the 
house  from  1863  until  1870,  when  Clarke  assumed 
entire  control.  Nor  was  this  his  only  business  ven- 
ture, for  about  the  same  time  (1863)  he  assumed  the 
management  of  the  New  York  Winter  Garden,  with 
William  Stuart  in  actual  control.  Booth  and  Clarke 
were  also  associated  as  managers  of  the  Boston 
Theatre  in  1866. 
"Ruy  Bias"  v/as  now  added  to  Booth's  repertoire,  and 

44 


on  March  28,  1864,  at  Niblo's  Garden,  he  gave  a  'fthe^ 
superb  production  of  Tom  Taylor's  "The  Fool's  Re-   ^^^ 
venge,"  in  which  he  played  Bertuccio  with   much  li300t]^J2{ 
power.  The  next  month  he  was  seen  with  Charlotte 
Cushman  in  "Macbeth,"  and  the  day  after  his  engage- 
ment ended  with  her,  he  took  part  in  a  benefit  per- 
formance of  "Romeo  and  JuHet,"  where  the  proceeds 
went  toward  the  erection  of  a  Shakespeare  statue, 
now  placed  in  Central  Park,  New  York;  that  night 
also  Hackett  played  Falstaff  for  the  same  good  pur- 
pose. 

The  remainder  of  this  year  was  devoted  to  a  Shake- 
spearian repertoire,  and  then  Booth  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  a  series  of  scenic  productions,  which  were 
regarded  in  the  light  of  artistic  triumphs.  People 
marvelled  at  what  to  us  of  the  present  day  would 
seem  Httle  more  than  ordinary.  The  first  of  these  per- 
formances was  "Hamlet,"  which  was  praised  for  its 
thorough  atmosphere;  it  ran  from  November  26, 
1864,  until  March  24,  1865. 

On  November  25,  1864,  "JuUus  Caesar"  was  specially 
presented  for  another  of  those  donations  to  the 
Shakespeare  Statue  Fund,  and  on  this  memorable 
occasion,  the  three  brothers,  Junius,  John  Wilkes, 
and  Edwin,  were  in  the  cast.  Some  writer  said :  "The 
eldest — powerfully  built  and  handsome  as  an  antique 
Roman,  Edwin — with  his  magnetic  fire  and  graceful 
dignity,  and  John  Wilkes— in  the  perfection  of 
youthful  beauty,  stood  side  by  side  .  .  ."  while  their 
mother  viewed  them  from  a  box. 
Young  Junius  Brutus  had  been  bom  in  Charleston  in 
182 1,  and  had  made  his  debut  in  the  role  of  Tres- 
sel,  to  his  father's  Richard.  He  had  served  at 
various  theatres,  notably  the  Bowery  and  the  Boston 
National.  In  1851  he  had  turned  toward  California, 
which  region  v/as  all  a-quiver  with  the  impetus  '49 
had  given  to  colonization,  and  there  he  had  made 
considerable  money,  returning  East  in  1854,  when  he 

45 


^\%f  persuaded  his  father  to  go  West  with  him.  Already 

'  young  Junius  had,  during  1852,  served  as  manager  of 

Q500t]^jSS  San  Francisco  Hall,  with  George  Chapman;  here, 
eventually,  Edwin  appeared,  and  here  also  Junius 
Brutus  played  Othello  to  his  father's  lago ;  his  ability 
as  an  actor  was  only  fair.  William  Winter  writes 
of  him: 

In  person,  except  that  he  was  somewhat  larger  and 
heavier,  he  resembled  his  father.  The  similarity  was 
especially  perceptible  in  the  shape  of  the  jaw  and  in  the 
air  of  command  and  predominance  that  marked  the 
carriage  of  the  head.  The  elder  Booth,  however,  had 
blue  eyes,  which  at  moments  of  excitement  shone  with 
a  terrible  light.  In  the  face  of  Edwin  Booth,  when  acting 
Sir  Giles,  Richard,  or  Pescara,  this  hereditary  pecu- 
liarity becomes  visible,  but  it  never  was  perceptible  in 
the  face  of  Junius. 

Not  a  month  had  elapsed  after  the  hundredth  per- 
formance of  "Hamlet"  on  March  22,  1865,  when  the 
mad  act  of  an  unsound  mind  sent  the  nation  into 
mourning  and  Edwin  Booth  again  into  temporary 
seclusion.  The  assassination  of  President  Lincoln  by 
John  Wilkes  Booth,  on  April  14,  1865,  must  ever  be 
looked  upon  as  a  frenzied  act  which  was  contrary  to 
the  real  nature  of  the  unbalanced  man.  His  first  ap- 
pearance as  an  actor  was  made  in  the  traditional 
part  of  Tressel  in  "Richard  HI";  he  became  a 
member  of  the  Philadelphia  Arch  Street  Theatre  in 
March,  1862  ;  and  also  starred  at  Wallack's  Theatre. 
The  following  year  he  was  found  speculating  heavily 
in  oil.  His  final  appearance  on  the  boards  was  made 
as  Pescara,  in  "The  Apostate,"  a  benefit  perform- 
ance given  to  John  McCuUough.  John  Wilkes  was 
very  popular  with  his  associates,  and  those  who  knew 
him  have  described  him  as  a  man  of  prepossessing 
carriage ;  high-strung,  and  a  thorough  artist,  whose 
love  for  the  dramatic  was  shown  in  the  whole  prog- 
ress of  the  final  tragedy.  Had  his  life  been  a  normal 
46 


one,  it  is  believed  that  he  would  have  surpassed  "^ht 
Edwin  in  the  power  and  scope  of  his  acting.  _  - 

On  July  28,  1881,  Booth  wrote  to  a  correspondent :       JuOOt^p 

Dear  Sir : 
I  can  give  you  very  little  information  regarding  my 
brother  John.  I  seldom  saw  him  since  his  early  boy- 
hood in  Baltimore.  He  was  a  rattle-pated  fellow,  filled 
with  Quixotic  notions.  While  at  the  farm  in  Maryland, 
he  would  charge  on  horseback  through  the  woods, 
"spouting"  heroic  speeches,  with  a  lance  in  his  hand,  a 
reUc  of  the  Mexican  War,  given  to  father  by  some  sol- 
dier who  had  served  under  Taylor.  We  regarded  him  as 
a  good-hearted,  harmless,  though  wild-brained  boy, 
and  used  to  laugh  at  his  patriotic  froth  whenever  se- 
cession was  discussed.  That  he  was  insane  on  that  one 
point  no  one  who  knew  him  well  can  doubt.  When  I 
told  him  that  I  had  voted  for  Lincoln's  reelection,  he 
expressed  deep  regret,  and  declared  his  beUef  that 
Lincoln  would  be  made  King  of  America,  and  this,  I 
believe,  drove  him  beyond  the  limits  of  reason.  I  asked 
him  once  why  he  did  not  join  the  Confederate  army; 
to  which  he  replied :  "I  promised  mother  I  would  keep 
out  of  the  quarrel,  if  possible,  and  I  am  sorry  that  I  said 
so."  Knowing  my  sentiments,  he  avoided  me,  rarely 
visiting  my  house,  except  to  see  his  mother,  when  politi- 
cal topics  were  not  touched  upon,  at  least  in  my  pres- 
ence. He  was  of  a  gentle,  loving  disposition,  very  boyish 
and  full  of  fun.  ...  He  possessed  rare  dramatic  talent, 
and  would  have  made  a  brilliant  mark  in  the  theatrical 
world.  This  is  positively  all  that  I  know  about  him, 
having  left  him  a  mere  school-boy,  when  I  went  with 
my  father  to  California  in  1852.  On  my  return  in  '56, 
we  were  separated  by  professional  engagements,  which 
kept  him  mostly  in  the  South,  while  I  was  employed  in 
the  Eastern  and  Northern  States. 

Clara  Morris,  in  whose  company  John  Wilkes  Booth 
acted,  writes  of  him : 

He  was  like  his  great,  elder  brother,  rather  lacking  in 
height,  but  his  head  and  throat,  and  the  manner  of  their 
rising  from  his  shoulders,  were  truly  beautiful.  His 
coloring  was  unusual,  the  ivory  pallor  of  his  skin,  the 
inky  blackness  of  his  densely  thick  hair,  the  heavy  lids 
of  his  glowing  eyes  were  all  Oriental,  and  they  gave  a 

47 


^1j^  touch  of  mystery  to  his  face,  when  it  fell  into  gravity, 

"  but  there  was  generally  a  flash  of  white  teeth  behind 

^ODtI]£$  ^^  silky  mustache,  and  a  laugh  in  his  eyes.  .  .  . 

Hunted  on  all  sides  after  the  assassination,  and  mak- 
ing his  way  into  the  country,  despite  a  broken  leg,  he 
was  finally  shot  by  Boston  Corbett,  and  the  last  words 
of  the  distraught  man  were :  "Tell  mother  I  died  for 
my  country.  I  did  what  I  thought  was  best." 
This  tragedy  so  preyed  upon  the  mind  of  Edwin 
Booth  that  it  was  long  before  he  could  be  persuaded 
to  return  to  the  stage ;  he  never  went  to  Washington 
again  after  the  assassination.  On  January  3,  1866,  he 
reappeared  as  Hamlet,  and  occupied  himself  with 
those  sumptuous  revivals  of  which  "Richelieu"  and 
"The  Merchant  of  Venice"  were  particularly  com- 
mented upon.  Never  before  had  an  American  audi- 
ence been  so  sumptuously  treated  as  now ;  for  they 
saw  Shylock  moving  in  the  midst  of  careful  scenes 
representing  St.  Mark  and  the  Venetian  Senate 
Chamber.  Booth  did  much  by  his  interest  in  his- 
toric accuracy;  his  efforts  were,  in  later  years, 
further  elaborated  and  surpassed  by  the  wonderful 
stage-management  of  Irving.  The  famous  Hamlet 
medal,  given  to  Booth  by  the  citizens  of  New  York 
in  recognition  of  his  consummate  art,  was  presented 
in  January,  1866,  and  in  March  the  Winter  Garden 
was  burned  to  the  ground,  after  a  performance  of 
Payne's  "The  Fall  of  Tarquin,"  where  fire  had  to  be 
used  for  scenic  effect ;  many  relics  of  historical  value, 
as  well  as  stage  properties,  were  utterly  destroyed. 
But  nothing  daunted,  the  following  year.  Booth  had 
the  comer-stone  laid  for  his  new  theatre  which  was 
to  be  built  on  the  southeast  corner  of  Sixth  Avenue 
and  Twenty-third  Street;  James  H.  Hackett  offi- 
ciated. This  building  has  been  variously  described  by 
many  writers,  notably  William  Winter,  with  that 
detailed  interest  which  is  closely  allied  with  personal 
interest  in  Booth  himself.  The  theatre  was  a  fore- 
48 


ranner  of  the  modem  building,  with  its  intricate  ^Vtp 
mechanism.  One  thing  in  particular  was  curiously   ^*)'^ 
regarded  as  being  indeed  a  practical  advance.  All  the  QBOOti^jS 
gas-jets  in  the  house  were  ignited  by  electric  sparks. 
So,  too,  was  great  precaution  taken  against  possible 
fire. 

In  the  meantime  Booth  was  touring  the  country, 
and  while  in  Chicago,  in  the  autumn  of  1867,  he  be- 
came betrothed  to  Mary  F.  McVicker  (b.  1849), 
who  played  Ophelia  to  his  Hamlet,  and  who  ap- 
peared with  him  on  the  opening  of  Booth's  Theatre, 
February  3,  1869,  when  "Romeo  and  Juliet"  was 
acted.  Her  real  name  was  Runnion,  but  she  changed 
it  to  that  of  her  stepfather.  She  married  Booth  on 
June  7,  1869.  Previously  in  her  career  she  had  been 
a  concert  singer,  and  had  played  Eva  in  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin."  As  an  actress  she  was  not  accounted 
much,  though  her  best  part  was  considered  to  be 
Desdemona ;  she  was  characterized  by  her  clear  in- 
tellect and  excellent  sense  of  humor.  Had  she  been 
able  to  execute  her  plan,  she  would  have  written 
critiques  upon  her  husband's  roles,  with  which  she 
had  also  thought  of  giving  graphic  steel  engravings. 
Such  documents  would  have  added  much  to  dra- 
matic literature.  Booth's  private  life,  during  these 
years,  was  tinged  with  excessive  sadness  on  account 
of  his  wife's  ill-health. 

Booth's  Theatre  became  the  chief  theatrical  centre 
in  New  York;  here,  besides  Edwin,  Hackett,  Jeffer- 
son in  "Rip  Van  Winkle,"  Mrs.  Waller,  Lotta  in 
Brougham's  "Little  Nell,"  Charlotte  Cushman,  John 
E.  Owens,  and  Edwin  Adams,  all  had  engagements. 
Here  also  Booth  played  Othello  to  Barrett's  lago, 
and  presented  "A  Winter's  Tale." 
In  1873  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  Jr.,  leased  the  theatre, 
and  revived  "King  John"  with  himself  in  the  title 
role,  and  Agnes  Booth,  his  wife,  as  Constance. 
When,  in  May,  1874,  the  theatre  passed  into  the 

49 


/flr|*j»  hands  of  Jarre tt  and  Palmer,  it  went  through  a 

'  brilliant  period,  during  which  McCuUough,  Char- 

I^OOtl^jSi  lotte  Cushman,  Jefferson,  Matilda  Heron,  Adelaide 
Neilson,  Clara  Morris,  E.  L.  Davenport,  Lawrence 
Barrett,  and  Dion  Boucicault  appeared  at  different 
times.  Here,  on  November  7,  1874,  Charlotte  Cush- 
man took  her  farewell  of  the  New  York  stage  with 
a  production  of  "Macbeth,"  and  on  December  4, 
1876,  Barrett  first  played  "King  Lear."  The  theatre 
rapidly  attained  historic  importance ;  it  finally  closed 
on  April  30,  1883,  with  Modjeska  as  Juliet.  To- 
day, there  is  naught  to  see  of  Booth's  Theatre, 
though  veteran  playgoers  cling  to  its  memory  with 
respect.  Busy  shoppers  along  Twenty-third  Street 
scarcely  have  time  to  glance  upward  toward  a  niche 
outside  the  second  story  of  a  mercantile  building,  to 
discover  a  bust  of  Shakespeare,  which  looks  upon 
the  motley  crowd,  and  records  a  landmark  of  the 
past. 

Even  if  Booth  was  not  a  financier,  his  theatre  ven- 
ture, though  it  brought  him  to  bankruptcy,  was  not 
in  itself  a  failure.  Booth  had  his  enemies  as  well  as 
his  friends ;  WilUam  Stuart  had  not  proven  himself  to 
be  the  least  of  his  evil-wishers  during  the  Winter 
Garden  experience;  so  in  this  new  enterprise,  Rich- 
ard A.  Robertson,  his  associate,  became  unwisely 
involved  in  money  speculations,  which  also  involved 
Booth,  who,  busy  as  an  actor  himself,  became  over- 
enthusiastic  from  the  art  side. 

"I  had  no  desire  for  gain,"  he  said.  "My  only  hope  was 
to  establish  the  pure,  legitimate  drama  in  New  York, 
and  by  example,  to  incite  others,  actors  and  managers, 
to  continue  the  good  work.  .  .  ." 

And  as  for  the  moral  tone  of  Booth's  Theatre,  it  can 
best  be  estimated  in  the  actor's  own  words  to  a 
clergyman :  "There  is  no  door  in  my  theatre  through 
which  God  cannot  see." 

SO 


The  ending  of  Booth's  Theatre  was  the  ending  like-     -^fir^ 
wise  of  Booth's  attempt  at  management.  It  has  been      ^v^ 
represented  that  the  last  twenty  years  of  the  actor's     IBOOtibjS 
Ufe  were  spent  as  a  travelling  star ;  now  he  was  more 
particular  about  allowing  himself  time  for  rest,  and 
he  would  often  go  to  Newport  and  to  Cos  Cob ;  in  the 
latter  place,  he  was  once  thrown  from  his  carriage, 
and  broke  his  arm.  During  his  many  engagements, 
he  played   with  Salvini,  Ristori,  Janauschek,  and 
Charlotte   Cushman.  It   was  Booth's  Hamlet  cos- 
tume that  Miss  Cushman  wore  in  New  York  when 
she  assumed  that  role. 

Touring  the  South  in  1876,  "legislatures  regulated 
their  hours  of  meeting,  with  a  special  view  to  attend- 
ance upon  Booth's  performances" ;  then  followed  an 
engagement  in  San  Francisco,  during  which  ninety- 
six  thousand  dollars  were  cleared. 
The  life  of  Edwin  Booth  was  filled  with  successes 
that  have  since  become  the  greatest  traditions  of  the 
American  stage.  Though  as  a  manager  he  lost  finan- 
cially, the  force  of  his  art  rebuilt  his  fortune  thrice 
for  him — a  worthy  example  to  be  held  up  to  those 
who  discountenance  the  idea  of  an  estabUshed  home 
for  the  legitimate  drama.  "Remember,"  is  the  say- 
ing, "Booth  made  and  lost  three  fortunes  on  Shake- 
speare." 

Yet  Booth  was  not  loath  to  try  plays  other  than  those 
of  classic  range ;  he  constantly  read  manuscripts  with 
the  hope  of  finding  new  material,  but  his  own  art  was 
hard  to  satisfy,  his  own  powers  difl&cult  to  employ 
save  with  the  very  best.  When  he  was  a  manager, 
he  presented  Edmund  Falconer's  "Love's  Ordeal" 
with  no  success;  so,  too,  did  he  encourage  Arthur 
Matthison's  "Enoch  Arden,"  William  Young's 
"Jonquil,  or  Only  a  Heart,"  in  which  Barrett  played 
Jonquil,  and  Palgrave  Simpson's  "Time  and  Tide." 
When  Booth  went  to  England  in  1880,  he  was  har- 
assed in  many  directions ;  the  British  people  were  not 

51 


■^J^p  cordial,  and  further,  to  add  to  his  troubles,  Mrs. 

'  Booth  was  in  the  poorest  health.   Tennyson  saw  the 

^OOtI^0    American    actor    as    Lear    and    was    blunt  in  his 

impressions.   "Most  interesting,  most  touching  and 

powerful,"  he  said  to  Booth,  "but  not  a  bit  like 

Lear." 

We  have  in  the  actor's  own  words,  the  effect  this 

role  produced  upon  him  at  the  time : 

"The  strain  of  'Lear'  every  night,"  he  wrote,  "is  in 
itself  enough  to  drain  the  life  of  a  stronger  man  than 
I;  but  add  to  this,  the  anxiety  on  Mary's  account,  and 
loss  of  sleep,  and  you  may  guess  how  *sane'  I  am.  I 
sometimes  feel  as  though  my  brain  were  tottering  on 
the  verge.  Perhaps  acting  mad  every  night  has  some- 
thing to  do  with  it.  I  once  read  of  a  French  actress  who 
went  mad  after  a  continued  run  of  an  insane  character 
she  personated." 

The  second  Mrs.  Booth  died  in  New  York  on  Novem- 
ber 13,  1881,  and  the  May  following.  Booth,  with  his 
daughter,  again  left  for  Europe,  during  which  tour 
he  played  with  Henry  Irving  and  won  great  distinc- 
tion in  Germany. 

The  years  that  followed  in  America  were  marked  by 
the  usual  routine  of  an  actor.  Even  in  his  letters  one 
is  able  to  detect  the  sameness  of  the  life,  though  his 
energy  did  not  abate.  His  deepest  bond  was  that 
made  with  Lawrence  Barrett,  whose  career  was  in- 
dissolubly  linked  with  that  of  Booth's  from  Septem- 
ber 13,  1887,  to  Barrett's  death  on  March  20,  1891. 
"The  Players"  was  opened  at  16  Gramercy  Park,  New 
York,  December  31,  1888,  the  club-house  being  a 
gift  of  Booth's  to  his  fellow-actors.  Here  it  was  that 
the  great  tragedian  lived  during  the  last  years  of  his 
life. 

There  was  no  formal  farewell  made  by  Edwin  Booth 
to  the  stage ;  his  last  appearance  was  as  Hamlet  at 
the  Brooklyn  Academy  of  Music  on  April  4,  1891. 
As  early  as  1889  he  had  been  seized  with  a  stroke  of 

52 


ii||iljM| 

l?'"''^'"! 

|v    i 

f^^ 

) 

hk^ 

•^ 

I^^H 

-^k  V- 

m         ■P* 

AlWri  ^i 

1        1 

^^^^^^B  ff'fSm'^ 

f-       t 

h|^ 

CoHfiiim'  WtUinm  Sri/mow 
and  (,'o(.   r.   AILlOft   Hrimi, 


EDWIN    BOOTH    AT    DIFFERENT    PERIODS 


Ci^e 


paralysis,   brought   on  by  excessive   smoking.   His 

strength  gradually  failed  him,  until,  on  June  8,  1893, 

the  great  American  actor  passed  away.  At  Mount    05OOtft|2l 

Auburn,  where  Booth  was  buried,  also  rest  Mary 

Devlin  and  Edgar,  son  of  Mary  McVicker,  whose 

grave  is  in  Chicago. 

Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich  wrote  a  letter  to  William 

Winter,  who  was  in  the  West  at  the  time  of  Booth's 

funeral — a  tribute  of  truth  and  poetry : 

"Just  as  Edwin  was  laid  in  the  grave,  among  the  fra- 
grant pine-boughs  which  lined  it  and  softened  its 
cruelty,"  so  it  ran  in  part,  "the  sun  went  down.  .  ,  . 
There,  in  the  tender  afterglow,  two  or  three  hundred 
men  and  women  stood  silent,  with  bowed  heads.  .  ,  . 
The  soft  June  air,  blowing  across  the  upland,  brought 
with  it  the  scent  of  syringa  blossoms  from  the  slope 
below.  [So  different  was  this  from  the  January  snow 
covering  the  hills  on  the  day  Junius  Brutus  Booth  was 
buried.]  Overhead,  and  among  the  trees,  the  twilight 
was  gathering.  'Good  night,  sweet  Prince,'  I  said  under 
my  breath,  remembering  your  quotation.  Then  I 
thought  of  the  years  and  years  that  had  been  made 
rich  with  his  presence.  .  .  ." 

Booth's  resignation  to  death  was  a  resignation  based 
on  the  happy  thought  of  ending  life's  turmoil.  He 
had  been  weighted  with  sadness,  worry,  and  work; 
he  had  won  fame — but  he  had  won  it  at  great  sacri- 
fice. The  Booths  are  a  tradition:  there  is  naught 
tangible  for  the  present  generation,  or  for  genera- 
tions to  come,  though  connections  of  the  family  are 
still  on  the  stage.  "Exit" — the  lights  are  low,  and 
memory  ever  clings  to  what  has  been.  We  see  the 
Booth  family  in  a  continuous  shade  of  incident.  In- 
herited sadness  touched  each  one.  "I  cannot  grieve 
at  death.  It  seems  to  me  the  greatest  boon  the  Al- 
mighty has  granted  us."  Thus  wrote  Edwin  Booth. 
If  one  were  to  contrast  the  temperaments  of  father 
and  son,  the  great  difference  would  lie  in  the  mental 
activity  of  the  elder,  as  opposed  to  the  almost  passive 

53 


'^h^  melancholy  of  the  younger.  Edwin  possessed,  to  a 

_         greater  extent,  the  poetic  fire  that  comes  from  spi- 

ibD0tQ)3  ritual  intensity  rather  than  intellectual  vigor,  and 
though  Junius  Brutus  Booth  exhibited  tenderness, 
and  the  softer  shades  of  acting,  his  chief  roles  were 
Richard  III,  and  Sir  Giles  Overreach,  rather  than 
Hamlet. 

The  letters  of  Edwin  Booth  to  his  daughter  run  the 
gamut  of  fatherly  solicitude,  and  are  filled  with  a 
quaint,  sad  humor.  They  contain  an  ethical  fervor,  a 
seriousness,  a  playfulness,  all  tempered  by  an  over- 
hanging gloom.  As  a  friend,  as  a  student  of  his  art, 
he  was  earnest  and  sincere.  He  corresponded  with 
William  Winter,  T.  B.  Aldrich,  R.  H.  Stoddard,  Lau- 
rence Hutton,  H.  H.  Fumess — whom  he  helped 
greatly  in  the  invaluable  Variorum  Shakespeare,  and 
Edmund  Clarence  Stedman.  There  are  constant 
references,  showing  his  deep  love  and  solicitude  for 
his  friend  Barrett.  These  letters  are  characterized  by 
an  agreeable  style;  the  writer  was  naive  in  his  con- 
ceptions; he  was  sympathetic  in  his  views,  and 
though  he  never  posed  as  a  literary  man,  yet  what  he 
did  in  the  way  of  writing,  exhibited  much  clear- 
ness and  insight.  He  aided  William  Winter  in  his 
work  on  the  prompt  books  of  some  fifteen  plays  in 
his  repertoire,  and  he  penned  thorough  appreciations 
of  both  his  father  and  Edmund  Kean.  As  a  public 
speaker.  Booth  was  not  at  his  happiest;  when  the 
Edgar  Allan  Poe  Tablet  was  placed  by  the  actors  in 
the  New  York  Museum  of  Art,  May  4,  1885,  as  a 
token  of  respect  to  Elizabeth  Arnold  and  David  Poe, 
Booth  presided ;  so  too,  he  figured  as  host  for  many 
seasons  at  "The  Players." 

Edwin  was  an  artist  who  saw  things  as  a  whole; 
for  that  reason  he  disliked  the  drudgery  of  rehearsals 
as  much  as  his  father  did ;  the  elder  Booth  was  often 
late  on  such  occasions,  and  would  walk  in  upon  his 
company  long  after  the  play  had  been  rehearsed.  It  is 

54 


this  quick  grasp  of  essentials  without  the  necessity  for  '^TTjp 
drill  which  distinguishes  a  great  actor  from  a  cleverly       " 
trained  one.  After  all,  there  is  not  such  a  vast  void  IBOOtl^jS 
between  intellectual  and  spiritual  sympathy;  they 
are  only  two  ways  of  reaching  the  same  essential 
truth.  Edwin  Booth's  culture  was  that  of  spirit ;  he 
was  not  broadly  read,  though  his  sympathies  were 
broad.  His  melancholy  was  not  the  result  of  a  vary- 
ing and  uncertain  mind.  It  was  a  permanent  tone,  a 
vital  part  of  his  nature.  The  element  of  mirth  was 
denied  the  Booth  family;  their  very  name  spelled 
tragedy. 


55 


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m— THE  JEFFERSONS 

CLATTER  of  hoofs  along  the 
country  road,  and  a  young 
horseman  dashed  wildly  through 
London  spreading  the  news  of 
the  defeat  of  the  Pretender. 
George  II  was  King,  and  the 
year  was  1745,  during  the  Jaco- 
bite rebellion.  At  the  White 
Hart  Inn  David  Garrick  and  his 
fellow-actors  were  carousing,  and  the  landlord  came 
to  inform  them  of  a  comely  youth  without,  who  could 
sing  and  dance,  and  tell  a  story  well.  Nothing  would 
do  but  the  company  must  see  the  stranger,  so  the 
rider  was  simimoned,  and  there  entered — the  first  of 
the  Jefferson  family  of  actors. 

Details  in  the  Ufe  of  Thomas  Jefferson  (1728-1807) 
are  obscure;  even  his  first  meeting  with  Garrick  is 
somewhat  legendary ;  yet  we  are  safe  in  conjecturing 
that  Garrick  took  a  fancy  to  the  country  bumpkin, 
and  used  his  influence  to  help  him  with  the  authori- 
ties at  Drury  Lane.  Fired  with  the  beauty  of  Peg 
WoflSngton's  art  in  "The  Committee,"  young  Jef- 
ferson turned  actor,  and  we  find  him  in  those  hal- 
cyon days  of  the  theatre  playing  with  Mrs.  Abington, 
Roscius,  Kitty  Clive,  Spranger  Barry,  Mossop,  and 
Macklin.  They  were  exciting  days  too,  for  tavern 
brawls  were  constant,  and  once  Jefferson  barely 
escaped  with  his  Ufe  at  the  Tilt-yard  Coffee  House, 
where  an  explosion  occurred,  the  result  of  a  well- 
laid  plan. 

Mere  chance  is  often  the  deciding  point  in  a  per- 
son's career;  it  seems  hard  to  think  that  we  are  so 
ruled  by  the  slight  occurrence,  even  though  it  may 
happen  to  be  a  fortunate  one.  This  accidental  meeting 
with  Garrick,  which  was  the  result  of  a  recommen- 
dation from  the  landlord,  was  Jefferson's  making. 
In  the  months  that  followed,  he  played  Horatio  to 

59 


"^1)0  the  great  tragedian's  Hamlet;  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 

*T<»fFrrc<nilc<  ^^™  *®  ^^^  Richard;  and  Paris  to  his  Romeo.  So 
J^IUUJJUUP  ^gii  jjj(j  ijg  install  himself  in  the  regard  of  Gar- 
rick  that  when  he  finally  turned  his  attention  to 
theatrical  management  Jefferson  left  his  benefactor, 
carrying  with  him  a  valued  wig  from  the  great 
man's  wardrobe  as  a  farewell  gift.  This  curiosity 
remained  in  the  family  until  it  was  destroyed  bv  fire 
in  1842. 

Jefferson,  in  succession,  became  theatrical  manager 
at  Richmond,  Exeter,  Lewes,  and  Plymouth,  yet  at 
intervals,  during  a  period  embracing  1750-76,  he 
was  still  a  familiar  figure  at  Drury  Lane.  But  so  loyal 
was  he  to  the  tradition  of  Garrick  that  when  the  lat- 
ter left  this  theatre,  Jefferson  never  returned  to  it. 
For  twelve  years  he  went  through  the  customary 
experience  of  the  itinerant  actor. 
His  first  wife  was  a  Miss  May,  daughter  of  an  em- 
phatically prejudiced  man  who  looked  upon  the 
stage  with  ill-favor,  and,  despite  his  daughter's 
talents,  would  not  give  his  consent  to  her  marriage 
with  Jefferson  until  the  young  actor  had  agreed  to 
forfeit  £500  should  she  ever  be  an  actress.  This 
shrewd  business  transaction  never  amounted  to 
much.  The  irate  prejudice  subsided,  and  wherever 
Miss  May  is  mentioned  in  theatrical  chronicles,  it 
is  to  extol  her  virtues  and  to  praise  her  sunny  tem- 
perament. Tate  Wilkinson  said :  "She  had  one  of  the 
best  dispositions  that  ever  harbored  in  a  human 
breast;  and,  more  extraordinary,  joined  to  that 
meekness,  she  was  one  of  the  most  elegant  women 
I  ever  beheld." 

It  is  a  significant  fact  that  the  future  Jeffersons  were 
of  direct  descent  from  this  marriage ;  for  Mrs.  Jeffer- 
son died  on  July  18,  1776,  from  the  effects  of  exces- 
sive laughter,  and  it  is  related  of  the  Joseph  Jefferson 
of  our  own  time  that  when  his  enjoyment  was  hearty 
he  always  felt  a  sharp  twinge  of  pain  at  the  base  of 
60 


his  brain.  Throughout  this  branch  of  the  family  an     '^)i\t 
unfailing  ripple  of  merriment  is  detected.  0'c»ffM*dntre< 

Mrs.  Jefferson's  husband  was  likewise  of  quick  ;^]ZuZVpUllp 
humor  and  understanding.  Sometimes  his  hilarity 
was  within  control;  at  others,  it  became  absolutely 
imgovernable.  During  the  course  of  a  play  one  night, 
something  amused  him  so  much  that  he  was  unable 
to  proceed  with  his  lines;  the  dialogue  was  stopped 
while  he  had  his  laugh.  This  lighter  vein,  on  occa- 
sions, found  a  mischievous  outlet  in  pranks  upon 
his  fellow-actors.  During  the  "recorders"  scene  in 
"Hamlet,"  an  audience  once  was  somewhat  sur- 
prised by  a  new  turn  to  the  dialogue :  Guildenstem 
is  besought,  in  the  text,  to  play  the  instruments,  and, 
showing  utter  perplexity  and  confusion,  is  rounded 
up  by  Hamlet's  outburst,  "Why,  look  you  now, 
how  unworthy  a  thing  you  make  of  me !  You  would 
play  upon  me,"  and  so  on.  Presumably,  Jefferson 
was  the  crafty  courtier  that  particular  night,  for 
to  Hamlet's  insistence  Guildenstem  replied :  "Well, 
my  lord,  since  you  are  so  very  pressing,  I  will  do  my 
best,"  and  began  "Lady  Coventry's  Minuet" — a  per- 
formance which  must  have  upset  the  gravity  of  the 
Dane,  not  to  say  anything  of  the  audience. 
We  know  that  Thomas  Jefferson  was  married  twice, 
his  second  wife  being  a  Miss  Wood;  that  in  his  pro- 
fession his  comedy  was  considered  excellent,  and  his 
tragedy  was  placed  beside  that  of  MackUn,  the  great 
Shylock  of  the  past. 

Jefferson's  most  prosperous  time  was  that  spent  at 
Plymouth,  where  he  reaped  a  livelihood  at  his  theatre 
fr^m  a  sailor  audience.  A  contemporary  leaves  a 
picture  of  a  typical  scene  : 

I  remember,  on  my  first  trip  to  Plymouth,  I  was  rather 
startled  at  observing  the  effect  which  acting  took  on 
them,  as  also  their  mode  of  conducting  themselves 
during  a  performance.  It  was  a  common  occurrence, 
when  no  officers  were  present,  for  a  tar  in  the  gallery, 

6i 


(SLijC  who  observed  a  mess-mate  in  the  pit  that  he  wished  to 

0"<*ff<»««<^rt«*w  address,  to  sling  himself  over  and  descend  by  the  pil- 

3^CUCi  joOllp  lars,  treading  on  every  stray  finger  and  bill  in  his  way. 

Conversation  finished,  the  act  of  "shinning"  up 
again  was  an  easy  matter  for  a  sailor,  used  to  masts 
and  spars. 

But  toward  the  end  of  his  Ufe  Jefferson  saw  his  in- 
fluence dwindle,  and  finally  slip  altogether  from  him ; 
so,  too,  did  his  theatre  yield  him  less  and  less  of  an 
income.  His  loneliness  was  aggravated  the  more  by 
gout,  which  hindered  his  movements,  but  which  did 
not  succeed  in  affecting  his  spirits;  he  was  cheerful 
to  the  last. 

Speaking  of  Jefferson  the  First,  as  he  is  often  called, 
Edwin  Forrest  characterized  him  as  "that  beautiful 
and  gifted  old  man,"  and  exclaimed :  "What  poverty 
and  what  purity  and  high  morality  were  in  his 
household ;  how  he  educated  his  children,  and  how  at 
last  he  died  among  strangers,  heartbroken  by  in- 
gratitude!" 

The  fact  is,  that  even  as  he  was  born  near  Ripon,  so 
Jefferson  died  at  Ripon  on  January  24,  1807,  while 
visiting  his  daughter  Frances.  There  are  some  lives 
destined  to  have  their  day  and  go  out  Uke  the  flicker 
of  a  candle,  leaving  no  brilliant  trail  behind.  They 
serve  their  inestimable  use,  they  have  their  imme- 
diate and  subtle  influence,  yet  leave  in  their  wake  no 
public  sympathy  or  regret.  Little  notice  was  taken  of 
the  death  of  Jefferson.  "The  Gentleman's  Magazine" 
of  that  year  contained  a  short  reference  to  the  fact 
that  he  had  been  one  of  the  beneficiaries  of  the  Theat- 
rical Fund,  which  was  originally  organized  by  one  of 
the  profession,  a  Mr.  Hull,  and  which  has  continued 
its  good  services  to  the  present  day. 
Jefferson's  repertoire  was  extensive;  the  man  who 
could  play  Gratiano  in  "The  Merchant  of  Venice" 
was  also  an  agreeable  Jacques  in  "As  You  Like 
It."  His  roles  were  a  strong  admixture  of  the  serious 
62 


and  of  the  comic,  and  on  the  stage,  it  is  said,  he     'STh^ 

"possessed  a  pleasing  countenance,  strong  expres-      -^  " 

sion  and  compass  of  voice,  and  was  excellent  in  de-     3]Cu01?jSlOtl0 

clamatory  parts."  Certain  it  is  that  the  immediate 

necessities  of  a  manager  forced  him  into  many  a 

highly  diversified  character;  this  must  have  made 

him  more  daring  than  otherwise  in  his  ventures ;  he 

was  willing  to  attempt  anything.  Tom  Weston's  will 

contained  the  following  clause : 

Item. — I  have  played  under  the  management  of  Mr. 
Jefferson,  at  Richmond,  and  received  from  him  every 
politeness.  I  therefore  leave  liim  all  my  stock  of  pru- 
dence, it  being  the  only  good  quality  I  think  he  stands 
in  need  of. 

Weston  was  an  actor  in  Garrick's  company,  and  a 
son  of  the  chief  cook  of  George  II. 
The  second  Jefferson  of  note,  the  first  of  the  Josephs 
to  go  down  in  theatrical  history,  was  bom  at  Plym- 
outh in  1774.  He  received  a  good  education,  and  in 
early  youth  was  seen  on  his  father's  stage  in  small 
parts.  He  must  have  been  independent,  both  in 
thought  and  action,  for,  even  as  Richard  Booth,  his 
contemporary,  he  soon  exhibited  repubUcan  sjrm- 
pathies,  which  fed  upon  the  revolutions  in  America 
and  in  France ;  besides,  he  disapproved  vigorously  of 
his  father's  second  marriage.  These  facts  were  the 
cause  of  his  going  to  America  in  1795,  and  thereafter 
he  never  returned  to  England.  We  can  trace  the  far- 
reaching  effect  of  this  estrangement,  for  when  Jeffer- 
son the  Fourth  was  abroad  at  one  time,  he  met  Mr. 
Tom  Jefferson,  who  was  a  stranger  to  him,  yet  who 
was  a  descendant  of  Frank,  half-brother  of  Jefferson 
the  First,  and  sometime  lieutenant  in  the  navy  and 
commander  of  the  royal  yacht. 

Jefferson  left  behind  him  a  brother  John,  mentioned 
as  tall,  slim,  sallow,  and  an  uncommonly  poor  actor ; 
these  deficiencies  made  him  desert  the  stage  for  the 

63 


^\)^  pulpit.  And  even  as  one  of  his  half-brothers,  George, 

"L  was  painter  as  well  as  actor,  so  Joseph  Jefferson  — 

IJCuCtrjoOUP  once  in  America — and  after  being  engaged  for  the 
Boston  Federal  Street  Theatre,  served  as  a  witch 
in  "Macbeth,"  and  also  wielded  the  scene-painter's 
brush,  preparing  all  the  scenes  for  a  produc- 
tion of  "The  Tempest."  Most  of  his  time  was  now 
spent  between  Boston,  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Bal- 
timore, and  Washington.  From  the  Federal  Street 
Theatre  he  went  to  the  John  Street  Theatre  in  New 
York,  where  he  remained  until  1803,  his  low-comedy 
and  old-men's  roles  attracting  much  attention.  He 
scored  markedly  in  "The  Provoked  Husband"  and  as 
Verges  in  "Much  Ado  About  Nothing."  Dunlap, 
author  of  the  invaluable  record  of  the  American 
stage,  wrote  of  Jefferson : 

He  was  [February,  1796]  a  youth,  but  even  then  an 
artist.  Of  a  small,  light  figure,  well-formed,  with  a  sin- 
gular physiognomy,  a  nose  perfectly  Grecian,  and  blue 
eyes  full  of  laughter,  he  had  the  faculty  of  exciting 
mirth  to  as  great  a  degree  by  power  of  feature,  although 
handsome,  as  any  ugly-featvured,  low  comedian  ever 
seen. 

While  there,  the  actor  had  a  rival  in  the  public  favor. 
But  according  to  all  accounts,  by  no  means  was  John 
Hodgkinson  to  be  considered  a  rival  personally.  He 
had  come  to  New  York  from  Boston  with  Jefferson, 
and  his  repertoire  was  a  varied  one ;  though  he  was 
an  actor  of  pronounced  ability,  as  a  man  he  was 
known  for  his  rash  actions  and  unlicensed  deport- 
ment. The  John  Street  Theatre  was  now  superseded 
by  the  Park,  and  Jefferson  transferred  himself  to  the 
latter  house,  where  he  benefited  by  association  with 
Hallam  and  Cooper,  and  where  he  was  destined  to 
remain  for  five  seasons.  One  of  his  initial  successes 
was  as  Peter  in  "The  Stranger,"  and  his  old-men's 
roles  continued  to  rise  in  favor. 
An  amusing  story  is  told,  revealing  the  vividness  of 

64 


the  actor's  character  parts.  A  sympathetic  lady  "^h^ 
had  viewed  him  one  evening,  bent  over  and  tottering  ^  ^ 
on  the  stage,  and  she  became  suddenly  fired  with  the  3iCa0t)SOltJ2J 
determination  to  help  remove  such  an  old  person 
from  the  boards  by  raising  a  subscription  for  him; 
on  the  interest  of  a  wise  investment,  his  last  days 
might  be  spent  in  comparative  comfort!  She  went 
to  the  theatre  the  next  morning  to  consult  with  the 
management  about  her  charitable  plan;  she  was 
thoroughly  convinced  that  the  actor  was  infirm,  and 
she  was  prompted  by  a  high  ethical  impulse  to  do 
good.  She  even  carried  with  her  a  list  of  well-known 
names,  which  she  had  procured  as  probable  subscrib- 
ers, with  her  own  at  the  head.  Thus  far  had  she  pro- 
ceeded. But  Jefferson,  lively  and  young,  happened  to 
pass  by  at  the  critical  moment ;  he  was  stopped  and 
introduced  to  his  would-be  benefactress,  who,  con- 
fused and  exceedingly  surprised,  beat  as  hasty  a 
retreat  as  possible.  Long  before  the  years  had  begun 
to  leave  their  trace  upon  him  the  actor  was  dubbed 
"Old  Jefferson"  by  those  who  had  seen  him,  a  tribute 
to  his  inimitable  art. 

Living  at  the  house  of  a  Mrs.  Fortune  on  John 
Street,  Jefferson  met  her  two  daughters  daily.  Hester 
became  the  wife  of  William  Warren,  and  Euphemia 
married  Jefferson,  thus  interrelating  two  families  of 
actors,  noted  alike  for  their  comedy  vein  and  for 
their  great  refinement  and  culture.  The  mother  of 
these  girls  was  buried  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard, 
where  there  is  also  to  be  found  the  tomb  of  George 
Frederick  Cooke,  marked  with  a  stone  which  was 
erected  by  Edmund  Kean  and  repaired  at  different 
times  by  Charles  Kean,  E.  A.  Sothern,  and  Edwin 
Booth. 

In  1803,  the  year  Jefferson  left  New  York  for  Phila- 
delphia, there  were  three  theatres  in  America  con- 
sidered the  Mecca  for  theatrical  talent;  they  were 
regarded  in  the  light  of  established  homes,  centres  of 

65 


{The  a  defined  standard,  even  as  the  Com^die  Franjaise  is 

^  the  fountain-head  for  French  dramatic  taste.  In  the 

3iCuCt]SSOU0  order  of  importance,  these  houses  were  the  Phila- 
delphia Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  the  New  York 
Park  Street  Theatre,  and  the  Boston  Federal  Street 
Theatre. 

So  that  when  Jefiferson  left  New  York,  in  much  per- 
turbation of  mind,  and  joined  the  Chestnut  Street 
Theatre,  after  having  spent  the  summer  of  1803  in 
Albany,  he  became  a  member  of  a  stock  company  of 
noted  players,  among  them  William  Warren.  Twice 
Jefferson  returned  to  New  York,  in  1806  and  1824, 
but  he  was  destined  to  remain  in  Philadelphia  for 
many  years,  going  to  Baltimore  and  Washington  at 
intervals.  In  1808  he  was  playing  Sir  Oliver  Sur- 
face, Charles,  and  Crabtree ;  a  famous  cast  of  "The 
School  for  Scandal,"  in  1822,  showed  Warren  as  Sir 
Peter,  H.  Wallack  as  Joseph,  Jefferson  as  Crabtree, 
T.  Burke  as  Moses,  John  Jefferson  as  Trip,  Mrs. 
Wood  as  Lady  Teazle,  and  Mrs.  H.  Wallack  as  Maria. 
Jefferson  is  said  to  have  resembled  the  third  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States  to  such  a  startling  degree 
that  the  two  were  thought  to  be  related.  Indeed,  a 
brilliant  wag  of  the  day  claimed  that  the  actor  was 
none  other  than  the  President  himself,  who  played  a 
dual  role,  deceiving  his  public  by  appearing  on  the 
stage  at  night,  and  by  wielding  the  executive  powers 
during  the  day.  Thomas  Jefferson  was  sUghtly  ac- 
quainted with  the  actor,  and  had  once  given  him  a 
court  suit  as  a  token  of  friendship.  In  appearance, 
Joseph  I  was  "scarcely  of  medium  height,  not  cor- 
pulent, elderly,  with  clear  and  searching  eyes,  a 
rather  large  and  pointed  nose,  and  an  agreeable 
general  expression." 

Those  eyes  of  Joseph  Jefferson  abounded  in  humor 
wherever   they  roved.  John  P.  Kennedy,  one-time 
Secretary  of  the  Navy,  author,  and  friend  of  Edgar 
Allan  Poe,  wrote  of  him : 
66 


He   played   everything   that   was   comic,   and   always  ^bf 

made  people  laugh  until  the  tears  came  in  their  eyes.  " 

...  He  had  a  patent  right  to  shake  the  world's  dia-  Q^CffCt^jSOnjSl 

phragm,  which  seemed  to  be  infallible.  -^^ 

We  can  imagine  the  pungency  of  his  Dogberry  and 
Verges,  the  free  wit  of  his  Launcelot  Gobbo,  the 
naive  foretaste  in  his  Bob  Acres,  of  what  his 
grandson  exhibited  to  a  future  generation.  "He  was 
so  perfect  an  artist,"  said  a  critic,  "that  although 
always  faithful  to  his  author,  he  could,  by  voice  or 
face  or  gesture,  make  a  point  at  every  exit." 
Jefferson  had  the  proud  distinction  of  being  the  best 
Polonius  that  had  ever  trod  the  American  boards; 
so  too  his  Mercutio  was  fraught  with  all  the  free 
exuberance  of  the  part.  The  variety  of  his  style  was 
judged  from  a  selection  of  two  hundred  roles,  a  list 
wherein  many  a  play  is  lost  to  the  present  generation. 
Only  the  names  remain,  and  these  are  of  sufficient 
particularity  to  create  a  smile  and  to  hint  at  the 
denouement:  "Self-immolation,  or  Family  Dis- 
tress" is  in  itself  descriptive,  but  there  is  something 
overpowering  in  "The  Lonely  Man  of  the  Ocean,  or 
The  Night  Before  the  Bridal,  with  the  Terrors  of  tlie 
Yellow  Admiral,  and  the  Perils  of  the  Battle  and  the 
Breeze." 

In  1817  Joseph's  three  sons,  John,  Thomas,  and 
Joseph  II,  appeared  in  "Valentine  and  Orson,"  a  trio 
recalUng  the  three  Booths  when  they  played  to- 
gether in  "JuUus  Caesar."  Thomas,  with  considera- 
ble local  reputation,  met  his  death  at  Petersburg, 
Virginia,  in  1824,  while  substituting  for  a  fellow- 
actor.  The  character  in  the  drama  was  required  to 
leap  from  a  rock,  and  young  Jefferson,  full  of  con- 
fidence and  energy,  attempted  it;  in  so  doing,  he 
ruptured  a  blood-vessel  in  one  of  his  lungs.  His  se- 
renity of  character  helped  him  to  bear  the  ordeal  of 
consumption  which  resulted. 

An   interesting   cast    for  a   performance   of   "The 

67 


'^bf  School  for  Scandal,"  given  in  1831,  was  almost  en- 

^^    «.  tirely  composed  of  the  Jefferson  family  : 

J,CuCV)50n)3  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  Joseph  Jefferson,  Sr.;  Sir  Oliver 
Surface,  John  Jefferson ;  Rowley,  Joseph  Jefferson, 
Jr.  (father  of  Rip) ;  Lady  Teazle,  Mrs.  S.  Chapman 
(Elizabeth) ;  Mrs.  Candour,  Mrs.  Joseph  Jefferson, 
Jr. ;  Lady  Sneerwell,  Miss  Anderson  (daughter  of 
Euphemia  Jefferson) ;  Maria,  Miss  Jefferson  (Mary 
Anne). 

On  the  evening  of  this  performance  John,  who  was 
by  general  consent  considered  an  excellent  actor, 
fractured  his  skull  by  slipping  on  a  piece  of  orange 
peel,  and  his  death  occurred  soon  after.  The  year 
1 83 1  was  unfortunate  for  Jefferson;  the  death  of 
his  wife  and  daughters,  Mrs.  Anderson  and  Jane, 
followed  each  other  closely.  Indeed,  from  1820, 
when  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre  was  destroyed 
by  fire,  the  actor  was  harassed  on  all  sides.  Heredi- 
tary gout  took  hold  of  him  in  182 1,  and  interfered 
with  his  work  to  such  a  degree  that  popular  favor 
began  to  fall  from  him  as  it  had  from  his  father. 
When  finally  his  last  testimonial  proved  a  failure, 
the  spirit  of  the  actor  was  crushed,  and  he  died 
(1832)  the  year  after  his  wife. 

While  Jefferson  was  proud  of  his  calling,  yet,  like 
Junius  Brutus  Booth,  he  would  never  allow  stage 
matters  to  be  discussed  before  his  family ;  strangely 
enough,  however,  all  of  his  children,  except  Jane, 
were  in  the  profession:  Hester,  famed  for  her  old- 
women's  parts ;  Euphemia,  who  appears  to  have  been 
her  father's  favorite  daughter ;  and  Mary  Anne,  al- 
ready mentioned.  EUzabeth  made  her  debut  at  the 
Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  with  Hester  Warren,  and  it 
seemed  then  that  the  latter  would  surpass  her  distant 
relative;  Miss  Jefferson  was  stage-struck  on  the 
opening  night  in  1826.  But  as  the  years  progressed, 
she  rapidly  rose  to  favor,  being  regarded  as  an 
excellent  stock  actress,  with  an  ability  ranging  from 

68 


Lady  Macbeth  and  Ophelia  to  Little  Pickle.    She  won  '0[^h0 

commendation    from  Tyrone   Power,   Forrest,  and  ^  ^ 

Sheridan    Knowles,    and   descriptions   of  her  bear  3j0U0tj3OtTjcl 
witness  to  her  exceeding  worth: 

Devoid  of  stage  trickery,  artless,  unaffected,  and  per- 
fectly true  to  nature,  not  beautiful  in  feature,  but  with 
a  countenance  beaming  with  beauty  of  expression,  in 
whatever  character  cast,  she  always  succeeded  in 
throwing  a  peculiar  charm  around  it,  and  in  making 
herself  admired  and  appreciated. 

Besides  playing  JuUa  in  "The  Hunchback"  and 
Pauline  in  "The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  Miss  Jefferson, 
who  changed  her  name  three  times,  was  Oliver 
Twist  in  a  dramatization  of  that  name,  and  Smike 
in  "Nicholas  Nickleby." 

The  Hetty  Warren  spoken  of  was  one  of  five  children 
bom  to  William  Warren  and  Esther  Fortune ;  all  of 
them,  at  different  times,  were  known  to  the  stage, 
and  WilUam  Warren,  Jr.,  the  Boston  comedian, 
attained  a  rank  equal  in  many  respects  to  that  of 
John  Gilbert  and  the  Placide  brothers.  Old  William 
Warren,  whose  life  embraced  a  period  from  1767  to 
1832,  was  of  English  parentage,  and  at  the  age  of 
seventeen  he  gave  up  his  trade  to  become  a  strolling 
player.  Reaching  America  in  1796,  after  many 
vicissitudes,  he  was  gradually  forced,  through  the 
uncertain  vagaries  of  fortune,  to  seek  a  living  as  an 
inn-keeper;  he  finally  died  in  Baltimore.  He  was  a 
man  of  rare  disposition  and  natural  refinement. 
Thus  did  one  friend  sing  of  him : 

Full  many  an  actor  have  I  seen. 
Who  ranted  till  his  face  was  black, 
But  none,  methinks,  e'er  trod  the  scene, 
I  liked  so  well  as  thee — Old  Jack. 

But  however  unfortunate  he  was  as  an  actor,  as  a 
parent  he  seems  to  have  done  his  best  for  his  son 
William,  who  was  the  representative  of  the  family 

69 


^1*^  and  who  was  bom  in  Philadelphia  on  November  17, 

^"^  1812.  He  too  was  destined  for  a  commercial  career, 

9^CffCt0Onj3  and  received  an  education  in  the  common  schools, 
afterwards  attending  an  Episcopal  seminary.  But 
at  the  time  his  father  died,  the  family  were  in  such 
financial  straits  that  when  a  benefit  was  given  them 
by  the  profession  Warren  then  found  himself  forced 
into  being  an  actor  through  the  necessity  of  imme- 
diate liveUhood  and  the  opening  that  presented  itself. 
Curiously  enough,  he  assumed  the  role  of  Young 
Norval  in  John  Home's  tragedy  "Douglas,"  a  part  in 
which  his  father,  years  before,  had  made  his 
d6but. 

The  usual  lot  of  the  strolling  player  befell  him  dur- 
ing the  years  to  come ;  so,  too,  did  he  serve  in  a  com- 
pany headed  by  his  brother-in-law.  The  first  date 
that  emphasizes  itself  in  his  career  is  1841,  when  his 
New  York  appearance  was  made  in  "My  Young 
Wife  and  Old  Umbrella" ;  then  followed  his  trial  at 
the  Boston  Howard  Athenaeum  in  1846,  when  he 
met  favor  as  Sir  Lucius  O'Trigger.  In  1847,  on  Feb- 
ruary 27,  he  began  his  long  record  at  the  Boston 
Musetmi,  which  was  to  last  for  thirty-five  years.  His 
Scotch  types,  his  Irish,  French,  Yankee,  and  Dickens 
types  won  for  him  a  local  reputation  unique  in  the 
annals  of  the  American  drama.  In  old  EngUsh  com- 
edy, too,  he  excelled ;  his  Falstaff,  Dogberry,  Polo- 
nius,  Sir  Lucius  O'Trigger,  and  Sir  Peter  Teazle 
were  accounted  exceptional ;  so  were  his  Dr.  Prim- 
rose, Bob  Acres,  Dr.  Pangloss,  and  Sir  Harcourt 
Courtley.  In  1855,  when  Rachel  was  in  this  country, 
Warren  acted  in  her  company. 
On  October  28,  1882,  he  celebrated  his  semi-centen- 
nial and  at  the  time  was  described  as  having  a  "mas- 
sive, stately  figure,  thoughtful  eyes,  a  Uttle  grave  and 
weary,  mouth  with  its  virile  strength,  and  its  whim- 
sical, humorous  sweetness."  Culture  was  the  strong 
characteristic  of  Warren.  Henry  Clapp  has  written : 
70 


1  H^gfilfe^l 

. 

i^^H 

r^a^^SK^ 

JOSEPH    JEFFERSON,    AS    DR.    PANGLOSS 


As  long  as  he  lived,  he  was  assiduous  in  educating  him-  '^l-j  a 

self,  both  broadly  and  generously  as  a  man,  and  minute-  ^v  ^ 

ly  and  technically  as  an  actor.  He  is  to  be  regarded  in  a  Ojoff  rM'CJftlYt^ 

special  sense  as  representative  of  that  small  class  of  ^J'^W^'^*'PUH3 

American  actors,  whose  natural  aptitudes  have  been 

developed  imder  the  refining  and  chastening  influences 

of  a  careful  culture. 

Retiring  in  1885,  for  his  last  performance  occurred 
on  May  12,  as  Eccles  in  "Caste,"  Warren  died  on 
September  21,  1888,  leaving  behind  him  an  immortal 
fame,  based  as  much  upon  personal  worth  as  upon 
consummate  art.  Henry  Clapp's  remarks  concerning 
him  are  fraught  with  keen  discernment.  There  is  a 
compact  vividness  in  his  critical  estimate  reminding 
one  of  the  descriptions  penned  by  HazUtt  and  Lamb 
in  their  dramatic  criticisms.  He  said : 

It  is  as  nearly  impossible  to  compare  him  [Jefferson]  with 
Mr.  Warren  as  to  weigh  a  sonnet  of  Shakespeare 
against  a  comedy  of  Goldsmith.  The  loftier  genius  of  the 
creator  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  must  be  conceded;  it  is 
comparatively  narrow,  but  it  is  a  tongue  of  flame  which 
pierces  to  the  sky.  No  other  American  comedian  has  a 
gift  comparable  to  this  in  its  kind.  But  in  scope,  in 
variety ,  in  wealth  of  dramatic  resource,  in  largeness  and 
adaptability  of  method,  even  Mr.  Jefferson  must  yield — 
indeed,  he  would  be  the  first  to  yield — the  palm  to  his 
cousin  and  elder.  Mr.  Jefferson  I  recognize,  therefore, 
as  the  greatest  genius  among  our  modern  comedians, 
while  for  Mr.  Warren  I  claim  the  title  of  first  artist. 

Joseph  Jefferson,  the  second  to  bear  that  name,  was 
bom  in  Philadelphia  in  1804;  he  went  on  the  stage 
early  in  Ufe,  though  there  is  no  mention  of  his  first 
appearance,  and  it  is  stated  that  he  preferred  archi- 
tecture, painting,  and  drawing  to  acting.  That  he 
appeared  in  such  small  parts  as  the  First  Murderer 
in  "Macbeth"  is  recorded,  and  as  early  as  1814  his 
name  occurs  on  the  playbills  of  the  Philadelphia 
Chestnut  Street  Theatre.  Like  his  father,  he  won  re- 
spect for  his  old-men's  parts.  In  1824  he  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Chatham  Garden  Theatre,  and  he  also 

71 


played  continually  in  Philadelphia,  Washington,  and 
Baltimore.  On  July  27,  1826,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
two,  he  married  Mrs.  Thomas  Burke,  who  was  eight 
years  older  than  he,  and  whose  son,  Thomas  Burke, 
became  so  closely  attached  to  the  Joseph  of  the 
next  generation.  Mrs.  Burke  was  a  sweet  singer,  who 
had  first  appeared  in  New  York  in  1813. 
Through  the  years  Jefferson  moved  with  his  family. 
In  1829  he  managed  theatres  for  his  father;  in 
1831-32  he  was  playing  in  Washington ;  in  1835-37 
he  was  scene-painter  at  the  Franklin  Theatre,  New 
York.  In  1837  a  benefit  was  given  him,  and  there 
his  son  Joseph  was  brought  to  see  him.  In  the  fall  of 
that  year  the  actor,  with  his  family,  moved  to  Chi- 
cago, and  thereafter  time  was  spent  in  travel  through 
the  West  and  South. 

Jefferson's  sister  Elizabeth  wrote :  "My  brother  Joe 
was  a  gentle,  good  man,  true  and  kind  in  every  rela- 
tion of  life.  He  was  very  like  his  father — so  much  so 
that  in  the  play  of  'The  Exile,'  where  the  latter  had 
to  dance  in  domino,  Joe  would  often,  to  save  his 
father  the  trouble,  put  on  the  dress  and  dance  the 
quadrille,  and  no  spectator  could  tell  the  difference, 
or  was  aware  of  the  change  of  persons."  So,  too,  in 
latter  years  was  a  similar  substitution  to  occur. 
Thomas  Jefferson,  son  of  Rip,  often  went  on  the 
stage  to  play  his  father's  part  when  the  latter  was 
indisposed,  and  the  audiences  rarely  knew  the  dif- 
ference. 

The  word  genial  best  describes  Jefferson  III ;  his  life, 
filled  with  vicissitudes,  was  not  embittered  by  the 
seeming  neglect  of  fortune.  His  philosophy,  while 
sitting  and  fishing  of  a  day,  often  took  this  form :  "I 
have  lost  everything,  and  I  am  so  poor  now  that  I 
really  cannot  afford  to  let  anything  worry  me."  Yet 
he  was  not  a  man  of  indecision  when  the  time  came 
to  act. 
The  Jeffersons,  once  established  in  Mobile,  Alabama, 

72 


became  the  better  part  of  the  local  company;  so     '^h^ 
much  so  was  this  the  case  that  when  Jefferson  died     -_  ^ 
of  yellow  fever  on  November  24,  1842,  the  theatre     3CU0t^)2JOttj2l 
had  to  be  closed  on  account  of  the  number  of  players 
absent.  In  his  career  the  actor  made  a  good  im- 
pression as  Polonius,  Dogberry,    the    First  Grave- 
digger  in  "Hamlet,"  and  Gratiano.  Like  his  prede- 
cessors, he  was  versatile;  perhaps  this  was  one  of 
the  chief  causes  of  his  poverty — his  good  nature  was 
imposed  upon.  If  he  was  actor  and  manager,  that 
would  seem  to  have  been  sufficient;  but  he  must 
likewise  fill  the  role  of   scene-painter  and   stage- 
carpenter;  he  showed  a  mechanical  skill  inherited 
from  his  father,  who  invented  a  wig  with  moving 
hair. 

In  the  direct  descent,  each  Jefferson  seems  to  have 
belonged  to  his  distinct  period.  Thomas  Jefferson  was 
within  the  glow  of  Woffington,  Macklin,  Gibber, 
Quin — the  contemporary  of  Johnson  and  Garrick. 
Winter  records : 

He  lived  till  close  on  the  beginning  of  the  regency 
of  George  IV,  and  passed  away  just  as  the  new  forces 
of  Scott,  Byron,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  and  Shelley 
were  making  a  new  era  in  human  thought.  Joseph 
Jefferson  I  came  to  America  during  Washington's 
second  term,  and  died  in  the  first  term  of  Jackson. 
Joseph  Jefferson  II  buffeted  the  days  when  civilization 
was  moving  to  the  middle  West,  and  when  the  com- 
forts of  travel  were  unknown.  Joseph  Jefferson  III  has 
carried  the  family  to  the  present  rush  of  modem  condi- 
tions, through  the  vital  moments  of  a  nation's  growth. 

Charles  Thomas  Burke,  already  mentioned  as  the 
step-brother  of  Joseph  Jefferson  III,  was  bom  in 
Philadelphia  on  March  27,  1822,  and  christened 
Charles  Saint  Thomas,  a  name  betokening  foreign 
extraction.  Indeed,  his  parents  were  French  refugees, 
who  had  barely  escaped  with  their  lives  at  the  time 
of  the  negro  uprisings  in  San  Domingo.  At  the  ripe 
age  of  three  we  find  this  young  actor  on  the  stage, 

73 


'(|jr,hf  and  his  career  was  fraught  with  countless  ups  and 

(^  gr  ^  ^  downs.  He  served  twice  as  manager :  at  the  New  Na- 
3]Cuttj30U&  tional  Theatre,  and  at  the  Brooklyn  Theatre,  for 
Chanfrau.  Slender,  almost  emaciated,  and  extremely 
sensitive — a  weakness  not  bettered  by  an  over- 
fondness  for  stimulants — yet  the  acting  of  Charles 
Burke  was  a  finished  product.  His  death  occurred  in 
New  York  on  November  lo,  1854 — the  immediate 
result  of  delirium  tremens.  John  Jefferson,  brother 
of  Joseph  n,  had  been  similarly  afflicted.  After 
the  failure  of  a  play,  Burke  would  stand  motion- 
less upon  the  stage,  wholly  absorbed  in  the  over- 
powering disappointment  of  the  moment.  Winter  is 
apt  when  he  claims  that  "Burke  as  an  actor  had  the 
mental  constitution  of  Hood  as  a  poet."  Jefferson 
wrote : 

He  had  an  eye  and  face  that  told  their  meaning  before 
he  spoke,  a  voice  that  seemed  to  come  from  the  heart 
itself,  penetrating — but  melodious. 

Joseph  Jefferson  HI  was  bom  in  Philadelphia  on 
February  20,  1829,  and  was  reared  among  the  paint- 
pots  and  discarded  scenery  of  the  theatre.  These 
were  his  playthings.  At  the  early  age  of  three,  he  went 
on  the  stage  as  Cora's  Child  in  "Pizarro,"  and  a  year 
later  was  carried  on  in  a  paper  bag  by  Thomas  Rice, 
the  famous  negro  delineator,  who  was  performing 
Jim  Crow.  The  tiny  boy  was  a  miniature  replica  of 
his  associate,  and  his  imitations  were  considered 
good.  At  eight,  dressed  as  a  pirate,  he  fought  with 
broadsword  before  the  footlights,  and  was  van- 
quished nightly;  while  toward  the  end  of  1837  he 
went  with  his  father  to  Chicago,  and  thence  began 
roving  West  and  South.  Pecuniarily,  the  Jeffersons 
were  not  overweighted ;  hither  and  thither  they  trav- 
elled, singing  and  playing  wherever  they  could  gather 
an  audience  to  defray  their  expenses.  In  one  place  the 
owner  of  a  shanty  walked  off  with  all  the  receipts. 

74 


"I  guess  that  will  about  pay  the  bill,"  he  said,  leaving  '^l^t 
the  actors  in  dire  straits.  They  passed  Indians,  and  Q[i(»fff»rrinnrf 
glided  by  small  villages,  destined  some  day  to  become  3i*-^'^^P'^^*^f* 
great  cities.  Now  the  company's  scenery  dropped  into 
the  Mississippi  River,  while  forest  and  castle  ran 
away  in  streaks  of  color  across  the  canvas.  Jefferson 
III,  nothing  daunted,  went  courageously  to  work, 
repainting  the  smeared  landscapes.  Again,  these 
travellers  got  into  trouble,  where  a  lawyer  had  to  be 
called  in.  They  employed  a  gaunt  and  awkward- 
looking  man — none  other  than  Abraham  Lincoln — 
to  aid  them  in  their  difficulties.  Now  we  find  the 
father  of  "Rip"  turned  sign-painter  for  the  nonce. 
Again,  the  Jefferson  family  go  down-stream  on  a 
raft,  with  scenery  serving  as  sails,  whole  fields  and 
balustrades  flung  to  the  breeze.  Barns  were  fitted  up 
as  theatres ;  candles  spilled  wax  around,  and  shed  a 
dim,  flickering  light  on  a  squalid  room.  Not  frills  and 
fancies,  but  rough,  healthy  democracy  greeted  them 
everywhere.  In  his  "Autobiography"  Jefferson 
wrote : 

Those  who  have  travelled  through  the  Southern  States 
will  perhaps  remember  the  kind  of  barn  we  acted  in: 
there  were  two  log-houses  joined  together  with  an 
opening  between  them  which  was  floored  and  covered 
in.  The  seats  were  arranged  outside  in  the  open  air — 
benches,  chairs,  and  logs.  The  double  barn  on  each 
side  was  used  for  dressing-rooms  and  for  making  en- 
trances and  exits,  while  the  opening  was  devoted  to  the 
stage.  The  open  air  was  well  filled,  containing  an  au- 
dience of  about  sixty  persons.  Our  enthusiastic  admirer, 
the  farmer,  collected  the  admission  fee,  a  dollar  being 
charged  and  freely  given.  The  plays  were  "The  Lady 
of  Lyons"  and  "The  Spectre  Bridegroom."  The  farmer 
had  supplied  us  liberally  with  candles,  so  that  the  early 
part  of  the  entertainment  was  brilliantly  illuminated, 
but  the  evening  breeze  had  fanned  the  lights  so  fiercely, 
that  by  the  time  the  farce  began  the  footlights  were 
gone.  The  little  "flaming  ministers"  had  all  sputtered 
out,  so  "The  Spectre  Bridegroom"  was  acted  in  the 
moonlight. 

75 


vLI^C  It  was  an  old-established  custom  in  those  days  to 

^f»fff*frtnilrt  present  two  essentially  different  pieces  during  the 
3JvUtlpuilp  course  of  an  evening,  so  anxious  did  the  managers 
seem  to  please  all  tastes ;  the  playbill  on  the  night  of 
February  20,  1817,  when  Kean  and  Booth  came 
together,  announced  "Othello,"  "after  which  will 
come  a  new  pastoral  Ballet,  .  .  ,  'Patrick's  Return,' 
...  To  which  will  be  added  the  comical  Afterpiece  of 
'The  Follies  of  a  Day'" — a  great  variety  running  the 
whole  range  of  human  emotions !  A  study  of  the  same 
programme  will  show  a  worthy  relation  existing  be- 
tween the  manager  and  his  public.  "In  consequence 
of  numerous  Enquiries  at  the  Box-Office  for  the  next 
Representation  of  *Timon  of  Athens,'  it  will  be  per- 
formed on  Saturday  next." 

Immediately  following  his  father's  death,  Joseph's 
career  took  him  within  the  path  of  the  Mexican  War. 
He  heard  the  guns  of  Palo  Alto,  and  at  the  tail-end 
of  the  victorious  American  army  entered  Mata- 
moras  with  his  mother  and  sister.  Here  follov/ed  ex- 
periences, both  in  strenuous  acting  and  in  keeping 
a  kind  of  restaurant,  where  gathered  any  but  a 
select  crowd,  to  drink  and  gamble,  to  curse  and 
flourish  knives.  In  1849  the  family  returned  to  the 
United  States.  Formerly,  Jefferson  had  played  at  the 
St.  Charles  Theatre,  New  Orleans,  there  associating 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Kean,  Anna  Cora  Mowatt, 
and  James  H.  Hackett.  His  profession  had,  previous 
to  this,  brought  him  also  in  beneficial  contact  with 
James  Wallack  and  Junius  Brutus  Booth.  John  E. 
Owens,  however,  now  became  his  inspiration. 
After  his  exciting  escapades  in  Mexico,  through 
which  his  mother  and  sister  also  moved,  Jefferson 
became  a  member  of  Chanfrau's  National  Theatre  in 
New  York,  and  his  sister  Cornelia  joined  him,  one  of 
her  roles  at  this  time  being  Little  Pickle,  in  "The 
Spoiled  Child."  "This  young,  fragile  creature,  the 
lily  of  the  garden  of  the  mimic  world !  .  .  .  I  cannot 
76 


look  upon  her,"  reads  one  account,  "without  per-  '^Tlg 
ceiving  a  constant  struggle  between  her  mental  and  ^  " 
physical  powers.  .  .  .  Her  every  action  is  humor ;  her  ^ItUZV^OXl^ 
voice  a  laughing  tone."  During  the  season  of  1857-58 
she  was  playing  in  Laura  Keene's  company,  and 
after  her  last  appearance  in  New  York  as  Titania  in 
"A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  (1867),  she  retired 
from  the  stage. 

Jefferson  now  married  Miss  Lockyer,  of  Chanfrau's 
company,  and  the  couple  passed  from  the  National 
Theatre  to  the  Olympic,  in  1850;  thence  the  next 
year  he  transferred  to  Niblo's  Garden,  and  then  be- 
came stage-manager  for  Henry  C.  Jarrett,  who 
owned  the  Baltimore  Museum,  where  both  Henry 
and  Thomas  Placide,  J.  W.  Wallack,  A.  H.  Daven- 
port, and  Mary  Devlin  were  all  acting.  Later,  he 
became  manager  for  John  T.  Ford,  in  Richmond, 
Virginia.  During  this  period  Jefferson's  association 
with  John  EUsler  in  theatrical  enterprises  took  him 
on  a  tour  through  the  Southern  States,  which  ended 
in  an  engagement  from  W.  E.  Burton,  who  managed 
the  Philadelphia  Arch  Street  Theatre. 
A  European  trip  occupied  the  summer  of  1856,  dur- 
ing which  Jefferson  gave  himself  up  entirely  to  study 
and  pleasure ;  but  on  his  return  in  November,  1856, 
he  joined  Laura  Keene's  company,  in  which  he  found 
his  sister,  J.  H.  Stoddart,  and  Charlotte  Thompson. 
In  1857  Jefferson  scored  as  Dr.  Pangloss  in  "The 
Heir-at-Law,"  and  Miss  Keene's  company  was 
further  strengthened  by  C.  W.  Couldock,  Charles 
Walcot,  Effie  Germon,  E.  A.  Sothem,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Blake,  Blake  being  the  one  who  eventually  at- 
tacked Jefferson  concerning  a  custom  of  expunging 
indelicate  lines  from  whatever  old  EngUsh  comedy 
he  might  be  playing. 

"Our  American  Cousin"  was  presented  for  the  first 
time  on  October  18,  1858,  with  Jefferson  as  Asa 
Trenchard,  and  E.  A.  Sothem  in  the  slim  role  of 

77 


-grit A  Dundreary,  which  we  shall  see  in  the  next  chapter 

^  rapidly  assumed  proportions  of  vast  importance,  due 

3|CuCt0On0  to  the  building  process  of  an  actor's  facile  brain. 

The  next  few  years  witnessed  Jefferson  as  Newman 
Noggs,  Caleb  Plummer,  and  Rip;  besides  bringing 
him  into  relations  with  Dion  Boucicault  and  William 
Stuart,  when  "The  Cricket  on  the  Hearth"  was  pro- 
duced in  i860,  at  the  Winter  Garden  Theatre.  Jeffer- 
son himself  wrote  a  stage  version  of  "Oliver  Twist" 
which  was  acted  on  the  evening  of  February  2, 
i860,  with  J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  as  Fagin,  and  Ma- 
tilda Heron  as  Nancy  Sikes.  Early  the  next  year 
Jefferson's  wife  died,  and  his  own  health  being 
seriously  undermined,  he  went  to  California,  and 
thence  sailed  for  Australia,  where  he  was  greeted 
warmly  in  his  old  roles  as  well  as  in  a  revived 
version  of  "Rip  Van  Winkle."  It  was  a  roundabout 
trip  he  took  to  England,  going  from  Melbourne  to 
Tasmania,  then  to  Callao,  and  along  the  Pacific 
coast  of  South  America  to  Panama,  which  he  crossed, 
thence  setting  sail  for  England.  When  he  finally 
reached  there  he  met  Boucicault,  and  the  latter 
began  on  that  version  of  the  story  of  "Rip  Van 
Winkle"  which  is  now  so  closely  identified  with 
Jefferson's  career. 

Leaving  aside  all  considerations  of  the  legend  in  Ger- 
man annals,  this  story  of  "Rip"  in  its  dramatic  evo- 
lution has  had  a  varied  history.  The  "Sketch  Book" 
was  published  in  1819,  and  ten  years  after,  in  the  fall, 
C.  B.  Parsons  was  acting  Rip  in  Cincinnati,  from  a 
manuscript  claimed  to  have  been  bought  in  1828.  At 
this  time,  too,  William  Chapman  was  appearing  in 
the  role  at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre,  the  cast  in- 
cluding Mrs.  Samuel  Chapman  (Elizabeth  Jefferson), 
Miss  Anderson,  and  J.  Jefferson  (supposed  to  be 
John).  A  Mr.  Ker  was  designated  as  the  author.  In 
1830  James  H.  Hackett  prepared  a  play  from  the 
same  story,  and  appeared  as  Rip  at  the  Park  Thea- 

78 


tre;  even  venturing,  in  1833,  to  undertake  another    ^Uf^ 

conception  of  the  part  prepared  by  Bayle  Bernard.     ^^^ 

The  contagion  rapidly  spread.  Tom  Flynn,  Yates,    "'JcffCtjSJOHjl 

William  Isherwood  (in  a  drama  by  Hewitt  of  Balti-       ' 

more),  and  Burke  (in  a  play  of  his  own  making)  all 

assumed  the  legendary  role.  With  Burke  appeared 

his  half-brother  Joe,  who  was  the  inn-keeper.  The 

fact  should    also   be   emphasized  that    Jefferson's 

father  was  successful  as  Rip. 

But  however  much  these  attempts  may  have  pleased 

at  the  time,  they  have  all  been  supplanted  by  this 

version,  which  Boucicault  was  at  work  upon  in  1861. 

It  is  a  picturesque  incident,  as  told  by  Jefferson  in 

his  "Autobiography  " — how  one  summer  day  in  1859 

he  found  himself  in  the  loft  of  an  old  bam,  lazily 

reading  the  "Life  and  Letters  of  Washington  Irving," 

and  turned  over  a  page  to  this  passage  regarding  his 

father : 

September  30,  1858.  Mr.  Irving  came  in  town,  to  re- 
main a  few  days.  In  the  evening  went  to  Lavira  Keene's 
Theatre  to  see  young  Jefferson  as  Goldfinch  in  Hol- 
croft's  comedy  of  "The  Road  to  Ruin."  Thought  Jef- 
ferson, the  father,  one  of  the  best  actors  he  had  ever 
seen;  and  the  son  reminded  him, in  look,  gesture, size, 
and  "make,"  of  the  father.  Had  never  seen  the  father  in 
Goldfinch,  but  was  delighted  with  the  son. 

Beyond  a  doubt,  the  incident  read  on  that  afternoon 
set  Jefferson's  brain  to  work,  and  though  it  re- 
sulted in  his  attempting  a  poor  version  of  Irving's 
legend  at  the  outset,  it  awakened  in  him  an  interest 
that  became  deeper  and  deeper,  and  made  him  more 
persistent  until  he  at  last  succeeded  in  obtaining  what 
he  wanted. 

It  has  been  pointed  out  that  in  the  Boucicault  play 
the  groundwork  is  based  upon  Burke's  version ;  tabu- 
lated, the  credit  or  influence  in  the  play  is  thus  be- 
stowed by  Clarke  Davis : 
Act  I.  Burke -L  Jefferson  +  Boucicault's  ending. 

79 


'{thp  Act  2.  Jefiferson, 

^  Act  3.  Burke  +  Jefferson  +  Ending    suggested    by 

3iCuCt0OU0     Shakespeare's  "King  Lear." 

The  character  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  in  the  play  is 
one  of  those  rare  exceptions  where  the  humanity  is 
wholly  dependent  upon  the  warmth  and  creative 
imagination  of  the  actor.  Even  as  the  elder  Sothem 
evolved  the  idiocy  of  Dundreary  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  be  totally  impossible  to  revive,  now  that  Sothem 
is  gone — so  Jefferson's  work  is  as  classic  in  itself  as 
Irving's  inimitable  sketch.  Boucicault  has  left  an  ac- 
count which  shows  how  clear  was  the  whole  con- 
ception in  the  mind  of  the  actor : 

"Let  us  return  to  1865,"  he  wrote.  "Jefferson  was 
anxious  to  appear  in  London.  All  his  pieces  had  been 
played  there.  The  managers  would  not  give  him  an  ap- 
pearance unless  he  could  ofifer  them  a  new  play.  He 
had  played  a  piece  called  'Rip  Van  Winkle,'  but  when 
submitted  to  their  perusal,  they  rejected  it.  Still  he 
was  so  desirous  of  playing  Rip  that  I  took  down  Wash- 
ington Irving's  story  and  read  it  over.  It  was  hope- 
lessly undramatic.  *Joe,'  I  said,  'this  old  sot  is  not  a 
pleasant  figure.  He  lacks  romance.  I  daresay  you  made 
a  fine  sketch  of  the  old  beast,  but  there  is  no  interest  in 
him.  He  may  be  picturesque,  but  he  is  not  dramatic.  I 
would  prefer  to  start  him  in  a  play  as  a  young  scamp, 
thoughtless,  gay,  just  such  a  curly-headed,  good-hu- 
mored fellow  as  all  the  village  girls  would  love,  and  the 
children  and  dogs  would  run  after.'  Jefferson  threw 
up  his  hands  in  despair.  It  was  totally  opposed  to  his 
artistic  preconception.  But  I  insisted,  and  he  reluctantly 
conceded.  Well,  I  wrote  the  play  as  he  plays  it  now.  It 
was  not  much  of  a  literary  production,  and  it  was  with 
some  apology  it  was  handed  to  him.  He  read  it,  and 
when  he  met  me  I  said :  'It  is  a  poor  thing,  Joe.'  'Well,' 
he  replied,  'it  is  good  enough  for  me.'  It  was  produced. 
Three  or  four  weeks  afterward  he  called  on  me,  and  his 
first  words  were :  'You  were  right  about  making  Rip  a 
young  man.  Now  I  could  not  conceive  and  play  him  in 
any  other  shape.  '" 

Such  then  was  the  play  that  was  read  before  Ben 
Webster,   the   crusty  manager  of  the  Haymarket 
80 


IILADELPHIA,      SUNJJAT_iiORXIN( 


IS. 
1I[D«,DI[S 

dson    of    First    "Rip    Van 
<le"  Also  Gained  Fame  in 
,rt   and    in    "Lightnin"' 

RIED   2ND   TIME   AT  71 

lywood,  April  2.— (AP) -Thomas 
fferson,  75,  stage  and  motion- 
re    character    actor,    died    here 

was  the  son  of  Joseph  Jeffer- 
distingulshed  tliespian,  who 
d  the  role  of  Rip  Van  Winkle 
orty-five  years,  and  followed  his 
T  in  the  part.  After  the  death 
•ank  Bacon  he  had  the  lead  role 
jightnin'." 

lerson  had  lived  in  Hollywood 
i  years,  api^earing  in  many  Alms, 
most  recent  being  "Forbidden" 
"The  Hatchet  Man."  Funeral 
Ices  will  be  held  Tuesday. 

lomas  Jefferson  was  the  last  of  a 
JUS  family  line  of  actors— the 
of  Jo.sfiph  Jpffprf^on.  trrpndson  of 


-PHILADELPHIA,     SUNDAY    MOEX 

nds''  Exhibit  Opens 


r" 


^vm 


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puooas  sfq   'pajja-Biu   aofAvi)   sb/ 

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pa^iono;  oiiAv  'saaq-joaq  o.u^  Aq 

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papua    puB    UBSaq    auq    aq^ 
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snonuHuoD  ?sa3uoi  aq;  sj  u    -ijfoi. 
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aSB^js     SuiiiB3ds-qsrti3ua     aqj 
paunuapt  uaaq  sBq  AituiBj  aqx 
-aajsaf  qdasof  ^jsay  aq:)  jo  uospi 
-5Baa3    Mapia    aq^j    uosiajgaf    qd 


Theatre,  and  Charles  Reade  who,  as  a  playwright,   '^TTig 
was  an  associate  of  Boucicault's.  Then  it  was  read  to  ^ 
the  company,  and  Jefferson  became  absorbed  at  once   9I^ff^^J2lOttj2l 
in  the  study  of  the  part.  He  lived  it,  breathed  it,  be- 
came so  intent  upon  it  that  he  often  forgot  where 
he  was,  except  in  the  Kaatskill  Mountains. 
One  evening,  on  returning  to  his  room,  he  began  re- 
hearsing some  stage  business  that  had  occurred  to 
him  during  the  day.  He  again  became  the  old  man  of 
the  Hudson,  oblivious  to  the  world  outside  and  to 
the  fact  that  his  window  was  wide  open,  while  his 
brilliantly  lighted  room  was  in  full  view  of  the  street. 
On,  on  he  went  with  his  work ;  one  by  one,  people  out- 
side stopped  to  witness  the  peculiar  vagaries  of  a 
man  they  thought  little  short  of  mad.  Suddenly  there 
was  a  tap  on  the  door  and  a  slavey  entered. 
"  'Sir,'  she  stammered,  'there's  a  policeman  at  the 
door,  and  he  says  as  'ow  there's  a  crazy  old  man  in 
your  room,  a-flingin'  of  his  'amds  and  a-goin'  on 
hawful,  and  there's  a   crowd  of  people  across  the 
street  a-blockin'  up  the  way.'  " 
With  the  wonderment  of  Jefferson's  jovial  laugh 
ringing  in  her  ears,  and  warmed  by  the  kindness  of 
such  a  hearty  sound,  the  little  slavey  went  from  the 
room  and  closed  the  door,  and  there  was  a  stir  among 
the  interested  crowd,  as  their  free  view  of  "Rip  Van 
Winkle"  was  cut  off  by  the  rapid  descent  of  the  cur- 
tain. 

At  last  the  evening  of  September  4,  1865,  arrived,  and 
the  first  performance  of  "Rip  Van  Winkle"  was 
given  at  the  London  Adelphi,  with  immediate  suc- 
cess; a  success  that  was  to  last  throughout  Jeffer- 
son's lifetime,  for  no  more  wonderful  hold  upon  the 
public  sympathy  is  to  be  found  in  American  stage 
history  than  this.  "Not  Edwin  Booth's  Hamlet,  nor 
Ristori's  Queen  Elizabeth,  nor  Charles  Kean's 
Louis  XI,  nor  Seebach's  Marguerite,  nor  Adelaide 
Neilson's    Juliet,    nor     Salvini's    Othello,"    writes 

81 


CftC 


William  Winter,  "has  so  towered  in  popularity,  or  so 
dominated  contemporary  thought  upon  the  influence 
3iCffCr0On)3    of  the  stage." 

There  was  no  striving  for  effect  in  Jefferson's  acting 
of  the  role.  Minute  as  it  was  in  its  study,  yet  the  gen- 
eral impression  was  one  of  naturalness.  His  under- 
standing of  the  part  was  so  thorough  that  the  picture 
could  not  but  be  perfect  in  detail  and  in  spirit.  Bran- 
der  Matthews  classes  Jefferson's  art  with  that  of 
Regnier,  Got,  and  Coquelin,  French  comedians  of  the 
first  order.  "Rip"  had  a  wide  appeal.  It  told  a  story 
filled  with  humor  and  with  pathos,  and  it  carried  a 
moral.  A  minister  wrote  in  1868 : 

I  never  saw  such  power,  I  never  remarked  such  nature 
in  any  Christian  pulpit  that  it  was  my  privilege  to  sit 
under,  as  in  Joseph  Jefferson's  Rip  Van  Winkle.  .  .  . 
So  simple,  so  true,  so  beautiful,  so  moral!  no  sermon 
written  in  the  world,  except  that  of  Christ  when  he 
stood  with  the  adulterous  woman,  ever  illustrated  the 
power  of  love  to  conquer  evil,  and  to  win  the  wan- 
derer, as  that  little  part  does,  so  perfectly  embodied  by 
this  genius  which  God  has  given  us,  to  show  in  the 
drama  the  power  of  love  over  the  sins  of  the  race. 

Jefferson  returned  to  America  in  1866,  destined  to 
play  "Rip"  many  thousands  of  nights;  his  time  was 
now  spent  largely  in  touring  through  the  South  and 
West. 

After  his  marriage,  in  1867,  with  his  distant  relative, 
Sarah  Isabel  Warren,  Jefferson  continued  his  en- 
gagements, cutting  down  his  repertoire,  until,  at  the 
time  of  his  death  in  1905,  he  was  chiefly  spoken  of  as 
Rip,  or  Bob  Acres,  or  Caleb  Plummer.  In  1869  he 
bought  two  estates,  one  in  Hohokus,  New  Jersey, 
and  the  other  in  New  Iberia,  Louisiana. 
The  life  of  Jefferson  was  not  devoid  of  its  deep 
shadows.  His  domestic  sorrows,  his  managerial 
trials,  his  ill-health  in  1872,  when  threatened  with 
blindness,  death — all  brought  their  dark  days,  but 
82 


Cl^e 


the  hereditary  strain  was  a  smile.  The  years  1873  and 
1875  saw  him  again  in  Europe;  the  latter  time  for 
two  and  a  half  years,  when  he  was  managed  by  John  3i^ff^^J2JOW<^ 
Sleeper  Clarke.  His  relations  with  Edwin  Booth  were 
unique ;  never  between  the  two  were  aught  but  verbal 
contracts  required,  and  some  of  Jefferson's  most  suc- 
cessful engagements  were  filled  at  Booth's  Theatre. 
Jefferson  was  also  associated  with  W.  J.  Florence  in 
"The  Rivals,"  and  as  late  as  1896  a  star  cast,  in  the 
same  play,  included  Mrs.  John  Drew,  Julia  Mar- 
lowe, N.  C.  Goodwin,  and  Francis  Wilson. 
Jefferson  always  did  his  best  with  whatever  small 
part  was  given  him.  In  the  benefit  performance 
for  Lester  Wallack,  when  Edwin  Booth  was  Ham- 
let, Jefferson  made  an  infinite  amount  out  of  the 
First  Gravedigger,  a  role  with  infinite  riches  com- 
pressed. 

There  have  been  many  players  in  the  Jefferson  fam- 
ily, yet  in  each  generation  but  one  alone  has  carried 
the  art  forward,  and  to  a  commanding  height.  The 
women  have  proven  themselves  worthy  as  stock 
actresses;  none,  however,  have  created  styles  that 
have  emphasized  them  as  original.  Even  Jefferson  was 
criticized  for  resting  so  persistently  upon  the  fame  of 
a  few  roles;  yet  during  the  last  years  of  his  life,  he 
declared  it  impossible  for  him  to  learn  a  new  one.  An 
examination  of  the  list  of  parts  played  by  him  will, 
however,  reveal  the  fact  that  Jefferson  was  far  from 
lacking  diversity.  There  is  a  wide  difference  between 
Dogberry  and  Tony  Lumpkin,  between  Touch- 
stone and  Bob  Acres.  Still,  the  penalty  of  sun- 
shine is  that  no  special  day  stands  out  from  the  other 
cloudless  days.  In  the  darker  aspects  we  are  more 
hkely  to  recognize  a  mark  that  will  emphasize  itself 
hereafter.  Tragedy  has  a  distinctive  color;  comedy 
has  various  shades,  and  shades  are  easily  forgotten. 
So  that  the  levelling  process  has  begun  with  Jeffer- 
son; in  the  future  his  versatility  will  become  more 

83 


'^rjlC  and  more  confined;  his  name  will  be  bound  up  in 

those   three  characters  already   designated   as  his 

3jCuCt*0Onjl  greatest,  and  as  George  William  Curtis  has  so  wisely 
said :  "Without  Jefferson,  'Rip'  will  once  more  pass 
from  the  stage  into  Uterature." 
Out  of  a  large  family  of  children  many  adopted  the 
stage;  one,  Margaret,  married  the  novelist,  B.  L. 
Farjeon.  Thomas  Jefferson,  bom  in  New  York, 
September  lo,  1857,  is  the  son  to  whom  the  family 
tradition  was  bequeathed.  Educated  in  London  and 
Paris,  his  d^but  was  made  in  Edinburgh,  when,  dur- 
ing 1877,  he  played  Cockles  in  "Rip."  After  many 
engagements — for  at  different  times  he  was  asso- 
ciated with  Edwin  Booth,  Lawrence  Barrett,  Ade- 
laide Neilson,  Wallack,  Davenport,  Mrs.  John  Drew, 
W.  J.  Florence,  and  John  Gilbert— young  Jefferson 
assumed  the  chief  roles  in  his  father's  plays,  and  in 
1905  he  acted  Rip  Van  Winkle  in  New  York  with 
creditable  intent.  But  with  the  death  of  his  father, 
a  standard  was  left  behind  that  will  be  difficult  to 
emulate. 

Jefferson  IV  literally  passed  away  in  harness ;  he  saw 
his  associates  drop  from  him  one  by  one ;  he  felt  his 
activity  becoming  less  and  less.  His  whole  pleasure 
was  in  a  contemplation  of  the  days  that  were  past ; 
his  "Autobiography"  is  easy  and  genial  in  its  narra- 
tive quaUties.  But  a  man  bound  to  the  stage  for  a 
lifetime  does  not  care  to  ring  down  his  own  curtain. 
His  last  performance,  though  not  supposed  to  be  his 
final  one,  was  given  at  Paterson,  New  Jersey,  on 
May  7,  1904,  when  he  acted  Caleb  Plummer  and  Mr. 
Golightly.  Like  Sir  Henry  Irving,  and  like  Mrs.  Gil- 
bert, Joseph  Jefferson  was  still  an  actor,  when  at 
Palm  Beach,  Florida,  on  April  23,  1905  (the  anni- 
versary of  Shakespeare's  death),  his  great  career  was 
ended. 

The  comedy  of  this  excellent  actor  struck  below  the 
surface,  keeping  the  heart  healthy  and  the  mind 

84 


sound.  It  contained  pathos,  but  it  was  too  mellow  to    '^h  ^ 
be  tragic ;  it  gave  happiness,  even  though  that  hap-    ^   re 
piness  might  be  mixed  with  tears ;  its  sorrow  was  on    3, CuCtj3OU0 
the  borderland  of  a  smile.  The  critic  was  right  who 
said  that  Jefferson's  comedy  "sunned"  the  heart.  If 
it  followed  in  the  channel  of  least  resistance,  if  it 
sought  only  to  entertain,  its  means  were  legitimate 
and  its  methods  pure.  Speaking  of  Jefferson,  Henry 
Watterson  once  wrote :  "He  did  in  America  quite  as 
much  as  Sir  Charles  Wyndham  and  Sir  Henry  [Ir- 
ving] did  in  England  to  elevate  the  personality,  the 
social,  and  the  intellectual  standing  of  the  actor  and 
the  stage." 

Clarke  Davis  has  further  to  remark,  in  his  illumi- 
nating article : 

[Jefferson's]  inherent  love  of  sincerity  in  art  prevented 
him  from  playing  "Richelieu."  .  .  .  There  is  no  fustian 
in  "Rip  Van  Winkle,"  no  sham  passion,  no  tawdry  sen- 
timent, no  untruth  of  any  kind.  .  .  .  The  Cambridge 
coterie  of  literary  and  artistic  celebrities,  upon  the  sug- 
gestion of  Mrs.  Stowe,  urged  him  to  play  "Lear."  But 
doubting  his  ability  to  properly  present  that  character 
upon  the  stage,  Mr.  Jefferson  refused.  He  said:  "All  my 
theatrical  training  and  experience  has  tended  to  make 
me  a  comedian;  tragedy  requires  for  its  expression, 
grace  and  dignity  of  beauty." 

The  Jeffersons  were  not  of  the  stuff  from  which 
tragedians  are  made.  Joseph  I  once  attempted  a 
tragic  role,  but  was  greeted  by  a  jovial  audience 
with  roars  of  laughter. 

It  was  the  sterling  quality  of  the  man  as  well  as  of 
the  actor  that  helped  raise  the  dignity  of  Jefferson's 
dramatic  art.  He  may  not  have  been  an  "active" 
reformer ;  rather  was  he  an  example  of  the  Matthew 
Arnold  precept :  "Wouldst  thou  *be'  as  these  are, 
'live'  as  they."  He  lived  the  life  of  a  gentleman,  and 
it  told  in  his  work.  Geniality,  kindness,  warmhearted- 
ness cannot  be  simulated,  neither  can  refinement. 

85 


"Perhaps,"  writes  James  Huneker— "and  this  is  not 
intended  as  a  comparative  study — Jefferson's  Pan- 
gloss  was  bettered  by  J.  S.  Clarke's;  perhaps  his 
Caleb  was  topped  by  J.  E.  Owens;  perhaps  Harry 
Beckett  was  droller  as  Acres— and  nearer  Sheri- 
dan, perhaps— and  yet,  after  the  critical  yardstick  is 
laid  aside,  there  remains  that  inexplicable  residuum 
—the  rich  personality  of  Joseph  Jefferson." 
Joseph  Jefferson  was  many-sided  in  his  tastes;  he 
was  an  artist  of  merit,  and  a  keen  critic  of  the  world's 
great  painters;  he  wrote  in  a  natural,  direct  way, 
as  his  "Autobiography"  bears  evidence;  he  was  an 
ardent  angler,  a  taste  inherited  from  his  father, 
whose  happiest  days  were  spent  perched  near  a 
stream,  with  a  rod  in  his  hands  and  a  whistle  on 
his  lips.  He  also  occasionally  lectured  on  "the  art 
of  acting  " ;  and  after  delivering  addresses  at  Yale 
(1892)  and  Harvard  (1895),  he  was  given  by  each 
university  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts.  Among  his 
friends  Mr.  Jefferson  counted  his  whole  profession, 
as  well  as  literary  men  of  the  day.  Many  an  hour 
was  spent  with  ex-President  Cleveland,  who  came 
regularly  to  Buzzard's  Bay  to  visit  him.  He  could 
claim  likewise  the  pubUc  here  and  abroad.  At  the 
time  of  his  death  he  was  president  of  "The  Players," 
which  at  once  links  his  name  with  that  of  Edwin 
Booth— the  two  great  exponents  of  comedy  and 
tragedy. 

The  actor's  art  is  fleeting,  yet  is  the  "character"  of 
his  work  permanent.  By  his  death  Mr.  Jefferson,  the 
actor,  has  passed  into  tradition.  But  art  may  gain 
new  life  through  example,  provided  it  is  not  tied 
down  by  it.  William  Winter,  who  has  witnessed  the 
ranks  diminish,  claims  for  Joseph  Jefferson  the  right 
of  Lamb  and  Thackeray  and  Irving  to  live.  The 
quaint  style  of  "Elia"  is  more  tangible  for  us  than 
will  be  the  quaint  style  of  Jefferson  for  future  gener- 
ations. Yet  both  are  diflicult  to  emulate,  since  they 

86 


EVENING     PUB] 


and 


.lovcpli  .'pftorson.  tlie  fnnimis  a.-loi 
liimself  widely  known  on  tlu-  stagp.  died 
at  liis  hoiiie  liPir  yesterday  after  nu  ill-  , 
iios  i>f  several  months. 

Mr.    Jefferson    wu'^    Imrii    '.ii    tlii*'   ''•t.'^ 
Iiilv    0.    ISC,!),   and   was   graduated   fvoui  , 
(Mlumbia   Inivei-sity.      Following  in  the 
footsteps  of  Ills  fatlier  and  grandfather.  1 
.    mad"   his   debut    with    the   former   ui  j 
Rip   Van    Winkle--   in   Denver  in  1X85.  ij 
Later     lie      played     several    other    roles    i 
\vlii<h  bis  father  had  made  famous. 

Mr.  .Ief|crs<in  is  survived  by  ins  widow  . 
ami    son    and    daughter. 


.M»»<.iil    \S  .    Jill'  Ki{>(rN 


EPH  W.  JEFFERSON  DEAD 


of     Famous     Actor     Was     Also 

Prominent   on    Stage 
.V    \itrU.     .May    _',       i  I'.y     A.     I'  i 
li     \y .    .lcfT<M-s.,ii.    son    of    ilic    late 


MAY     2,     1910 


SCHOOLS  NEED  TEACHERS  i    STRIKE  TIES  UP  FREJGI- 


students   Urged   to   Prepare  for   Du- 
ties In  Institutions  Here 
The  noed  of  an  immediate  remedr  for 

he  critical  shortage  of  teaohers  exist- 
ing in  the  Philadelphia  schools  Avas 
emphasized  at  the  annual  meeting  of 
the  Teaehers'  Club  in  mt-  DJillroom  of 
the  Hotel  Rittenhouse  last  night.  "Five 
^hundred  students  should  eiiK-r  inc  nty 
\ormal   Hehool   each   year."'   said   Miss 


Maryland     Trainmen     Uphold 

Who   Are   Laid   Off 
.     Ciimberland.   Md..     May   2. — Fr 
traffic  on  the  Cumberland  and  Peni 
vania   railroad,   the  main   feeder  ol 
(Jcorges  ("reek   region,  running   bet 
<'iimberland  and  Piedmont.  W.  A'a., 
tied   up  today  by  a  strike  of  train 
Two   trainmen    had    refused    to    i 
■'}&]  consigned  to  the  plant  of  the  ' 
irginia    I»iilp  and   Paper  ("ompan,\ 
-like,   where  a   strike  has   been   in 
ress    for    three    months.      They 
lid   off   and   the   strike  of   the   rail 
len    followed. 


Richard  P.  Bennis  Buried 
The  funeral  of  Itichard  P.  Mer 
f  (Jermantown,  took  place  this  ini 
ig  at  1t>  o'clock  from  the  Churd 
lie  Immaculate  Conreption,  Prict- 
'ulli\jan  streets.  The  Rev.  .1.  Mc 
•f  St.  .John's  College.  RrooklyVi."  \. 
ondiicted   the  services.      Interment 


12 15   Cll 


were  both  very  near  to  human  nature  in  their  work,  'fjri^f* 

Tradition  is  sometimes  hard  to  excel;  present-day   ^"*' 

drama  and  acting  bear  witness  to  this,  in  comparison  9^^ffCDS01t£j 

with  the  past.  That  is  why  Jefferson,  the  comedian, 

will  live.  The  element  of  mirth  was  given  in  large 

quantities  to  his  family;  their  very  name  spelled 

comedy. 


87 


.j^smm 


IV— THE  SOTHERNS 


'O 


» 

ij 

« 

<J 

H 

iJ 

<5 

m 

O 

H 

HH 

O 

C5 

03 

o 

<J 

Eh 

W 

:z; 

H 

O 

•<ac 


1= 


u 


IV— THE  SOTHERNS 

NTIL  I  gazed  upon  St.  Peter's 
to-day,"  wrote  the  Sothern  of 
Dundreary  fame,  while  on  one 
of  his  continental  trips,  "I  never 
saw  anything  of  which  the  comic 
side  did  not  strike  me  first."  Yet 
had  he  followed  the  strong  de- 
sires of  his  father,  and  had  he 
cultivated  his  own  taste  for  the- 
ology, which  always  clung  to  him,  E.  A.  Sothem 
might  have  been  lost  to  the  stage. 
A  striking  element  in  contrast  with  his  responsive- 
ness to  the  comic  was  his  constant  wish  to  make  a 
marked  success  in  tragedy.  But  those  who  are  able  to 
look  in  retrospect  over  his  career,  note  that  the  elder 
Sothem's  talents  lay  between  the  extremes  of  Dun- 
dreary and  David  Garrick,  tv^^o  roles  by  which  he 
is  best  known  to  the  present  generation  of  play- 
goers. 

The  beginnings  of  this  actor-family  are  rooted  in 
England.  It  was  at  Liverpool,  in  1826  (though  1820, 
1827,  and  1830  have  elsewhere  been  given),  and  on 
April  I,  an  auspicious  day  for  a  future  practical 
joker,  that  Edward  Askew  Sothem  was  born.  His 
father  was  a  man  of  considerable  means,  accumu- 
lated in  the  business  of  merchant  and  ship-owner; 
and  so  young  Sothem  was  educated  under  the 
special  guidance  of  an  English  rector,  named  Red- 
head, it  being  understood  that  the  pupil  was  to  be- 
come a  surgeon.  He  himself  has  written : 

I  attended  all  the  operations  for  a  couple  of  years  in  the 
Middlesex  Hospital,  London,  but  the  .  .  .  scenes  of  the 
dissecting  room  so  sickened  me  that  I  abandoned  the 
work. 

Perhaps  his  association  with  the  English  divine  fired 
his  impressionable  temperament  to  such  an  extent 
that  there  followed  a  three  years'  course  in  theology: 

91 


"I  may  say  that  my  investigations  in  this  direction  and 
many  controversies  with  clergymen,"  he  continued, 
"threw  a  wet  blanket  on  my  ambition  to  represent  the 
church  militant,  and  determined  the  bent  of  my  mind 
in  another  direction." 

Though  his  activities  were  to  be  turned  elsewhere, 
Sothem  always  found  theological  reading  of  deep 
attraction.  It  is  not  uncommon  for  a  jovial  disposi- 
tion such  as  his  to  be  so  counterbalanced  by  serious 
inclinations. 

After  finishing  his  studies  at  King's  College,  and 
after  going  through  the  changing  experiences  of 
these  early  years,  he  next  tried  a  position  with  James 
Poole  &  Company,  a  shipbroker's  firm — probably 
placed  there  by  a  disappointed  father,  who  had  tried 
his  utmost  to  settle  his  son  in  a  profession.  But 
Sothern  had  already  begun  a  systematic  reading  of 
the  old  dramas,  and  was  one  of  the  chief  members  of 
a  dramatic  club  called  "The  Sheridan  Society." 
In  the  case  of  every  actor,  as  well  as  of  every  person, 
the  natural  inclination  will  finally  assert  itself. 
Sothern  soon  realized  that  his  whole  attention  was 
concentrated  on  his  acting,  and  this  despite  the  grim 
displeasure  of  his  parent,  who  at  that  time  was 
further  harassed  by  business  losses.  Having  once 
started  reading  the  old  dramas,  Sothem  was  prepared 
as  an  amateur  to  take  an  important  step.  At  a  bene- 
fit given  by  the  manager  of  the  Theatre  Royal, 
Island  of  Jersey,  his  ambition  thrust  him  immedi- 
ately into  the  role  of  Othello. 

Much  later  in  his  career,  during  the  year  i868, 
another  benefit  was  given  in  London,  and  the  third 
act  of  Othello  was  played  with  Madge  Robertson 
(Mrs.  Kendal)  as  Desdemona,  John  B.  Buckstone 
as  lago,  and  Sothem  dressed  in  the  full  Dundreary 
garb,  whiskers  and  all,  as  Othello.  He  walked 
through  the  part,  making  a  London  fop  of  the 
Moor.  At  still  another  benefit  for  Edwin  Adams, 

92 


E.   A.    50THERN,    AS    DUNDREARY 


and  this  time  in  a  serious  vein,  one  act  of  the  same   "^l^C 

drama  was  presented,  Sothem  playing  with  W.  J.    g-.^*!^  ,>♦.♦♦(< 

Florence  who  undertook  lago,  Lotta  who  was  the    ^0^9  ^"^"^ 

Desdemona  of  the  occasion,  and  Mrs.  John  Drew 

who  acted  Emilia. 

However,  to  return.  If  naught  else  can  be  claimed 

for  Sothem's  amateur  essay,  it  was  at  least  earnest, 

and  ended  in  a  surprisingly  small  offer  from  the 

manager,   of   a   permanent   position  at   thirty-five 

shilUngs  a  week.  This  the  young  actor  promptly 

refused,  so  confident  was  he  of  instant  recognition 

elsewhere. 

He  did  not  reaUze  until  experience  taught  him  that 

this  was  the  beginning  of  his  career,  which  he  was  in 

after  years  to  describe  as  being  "marked  by  frequent 

dismissals  for  incapacity."  The  end  of  it  was,  as  he 

himself  narrates : 

I  was  obliged  to  accept  a  salary  of  fifteen  shillings  a 
week.  I  was  then  about  twenty-one  years  of  age.  On  my 
arrival  at  the  theatre  in  Guernsey,  where  I  had  been 
engaged,  I  found  the  play  of  "Hamlet"  announced  for 
the  first  night,  and  that  I  was  cast  for  Laertes,  the 
Ghost,  and  the  Second  Actor.  Jupiter!  How  stag- 
gered I  was  at  that !  I  had  a  memorandum  stuck  on  the 
wings  to  teU  me  when  to  make  my  changes.  Some  prac- 
tical joker  took  the  memorandum  down,  and  the  conse- 
quence was,  that  relying  on  my  memory,  I  was  con- 
tinually bounding  on  the  stage  in  the  wrong  character. 
...  I  was  immediately  dismissed.  .  .   . 

Accepting  in  1849  a  position  with  a  stock  company, 
the  young  actor,  calling  himself  Douglas  Stuart, 
travelled  to  Birmingham,  where  his  salary  was  in- 
creased to  thirty  shillings,  his  repertoire  fluctuating 
between  tragedy  and  farce.  A  period  of  two  years 
went  by,  and  Sothern  proceeded  to  Weymouth,  Eng- 
land, where,  during  the  fall  of  1851,  Charles  Kean 
came  to  see  him  play  Claude  Melnotte  in  "The  Lady 
of  Lyons,"  and  a  smaller  role  in  "Used  Up."  On  the 
next  morning  a  letter  was  handed  to  Sothem — full  of 

93 


\Li}t  encouragement  tempered  with  warning — yet  such 

^r»fTir»rtid  words  as  must  have  sent  him  on  the  road  rejoicing. 
^OlljCriiP  It  criticised  his  work  minutely;  it  held  out  offers  of  a 

future  engagement. 

Later  on,  when  acting  in  Portsmouth,  Sothem  wrote : 

I  received  another  letter  from  Mr.  Kean,  asking  if  it 
would  be  convenient  for  me  to  play  the  same  character 
in  which  he  had  seen  me,  adding  that  he  would  send  a 
friend  to  give  his  judgment  concerning  my  progress  and 
improvement.  Unfortunately,  however,  I  lost  the  oppor- 
tunity. From  Portsmouth,  I  went  to  Wolverhampton 
and  Birmingham,  my  highest  salary  being  thirty-five 
shillings  a  week,  for  wUch  I  played  Romeos,  Mer- 
cutios,  and  all  the  juvenile  and  light  comedy  business. 
I  then  had  a  season  of  broad  low  comedy  parts.  After 
this,  Mr.  Lacy,  the  dramatic  publisher  of  London,  made 
me  an  offer  of  $25  a  week  to  go  to  Boston. 

Thus  it  was  that  E.  A.  Sothem  turned  toward  Amer- 
ica, with  introductions  from  such  friends  as  Charles 
Kean,  Bulwer  Lytton,  and  Sergeant  Talfourd,  who 
had  witnessed  his  acting  with  enthusiasm.  In  Bos- 
ton, at  the  National  Theatre,  on  November  i,  1852, 
he  appeared  as  Dr.  Pangloss  and  met  with  a  frigid 
reception. 

Sothem,  strange  to  say,  seems  to  have  approved  the 
verdict,  for  he  was  undaunted  by  his  consequent 
discharge — taking  it  almost  as  a  matter  of  conse- 
quence— and  later  braved  another  attempt  in  the 
same  city  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum.  Despite  a 
second  failure  there,  he  would  not  succumb  to  ad- 
verse opinion;  the  young  actor,  "tall,  willowy,  and 
lithe,  with  a  clear  red-and-white  EngUsh  complex- 
ion," must  have  possessed  a  magnetic  personality 
and  indefatigable  persistence.  With  his  blue  eyes  and 
wavy  brown  hair,  and  with  his  graceful  bearing,  ac- 
cording to  Mrs.  J.  R.  Vincent,  who  was  familiar  on 
the  Boston  stage  of  that  day,  he  indeed  presented  an 
ideal  figure. 

94 


"Boarding  in  the  same  house  with  me,"  she  wrote,  "I  ,^1*^ 

soon  foimd  that  he  had  the  simplicity  of  character  and  vL^C 

buoyancy  of  spirits  that  you  find  in  a  child.  He  was  not  AsrtfV»r>*»vr«4 

rich — anything  but  that — yet  always   charitable  and  ^01^^^  "9 
generous  to  the  extent  of  prodigality." 

And  so,  "discovering  that  Boston  was  not  exactly  the 
field  for  success,"  Sothem  naively  remarked,  "I  came 
to  New  York,  and  applied  to  Mr.  Bamimi,  who  was  then 
running  his  Museum  where  the  Herald  Building  now 
stands;  told  him  in  a  straightforward  manner  all  that 
had  occurred,  and  asked  him  to  give  me  an  opportunity 
of  playing  twice  a  day.  I  felt  that  all  I  wanted  was  con- 
stant practice  and  experience.  He  engaged  me  at  a  sal- 
ary of  $20  a  week,  and  a  little  while  ^erwards  raised  it 
to  $25. 1  did  play  twice  a  day,  and  on  Thanksgiving  Day 
six  times;  but  it  did  me  an  enormous  deal  of  good. 
After  that,  Mr.  Marshall  of  the  Broadway  engaged  me 
for  $40  a  week  to  play  here  and  at  the  National  Theatre, 
Washington.  I  mention  these  details  only  to  show  you 
what  we  of  the  old  school  had  to  undergo  in  order  to 
achieve  success.  The  very  fact  that  we  were  obliged  to 
play  so  many  parts  created  a  repose  which,  it  seems  to 
me,  few  of  our  modern  actors  possess." 

Sothem  left  for  Baltimore  where  he  joined  Laura 
Keene,  who  was  to  be  a  condescending  godmother  to 
the  future  Dundreary.  On  September  9,  1854,  he  be- 
gan an  association  with  James  W.  Wallack,  whose 
theatre  in  New  York  was  then  situated  on  Broadway, 
near  Broome  Street;  the  engagement  lasted  four 
years,  during  which  time  Sothem  had  the  advantage 
of  understudying  Lester  Wallack. 

"I  owe  much  of  my  success  to  the  elder  Wallack  and  to 
Rachel,"  wrote  Sothern.  "Wallack  showed  me  the 
necessity  of  conveying  at  rehearsal  what  you  intend  to 
do  at  night,  and  the  importance  of  paying  strict  atten- 
tion to  the  minutest  detail.  He  was  one  of  the  most 
thorough  stage-managers  I  ever  met.  We  were  like  a 
set  of  schoolboys  under  discipline.  We  had  to  give  a 
reason  for  everything,  and  therefore,  to  study  hard. 
With  reference  to  Rachel,  I  left  myself  out  of  an  en- 
gagement for  six  weeks,  in  order  to  see  her  play  her 
celebrated  characters.  There  was  a  fascination  about 

95 


^1.^  her  acting  that  was  almost  painful.  She  had  less  action 

'^y*^  than  any  artist  1  have  ever  seen,  but  she  was  so  intensely 

f  „.<lij)  I'ltjJ  "*   earnest,   and    her   passion   was   so  overwhelming, 

^>0ltjCvnj3  though  subdued,  that  you  lost  yourself  in  wonderment. 

I  learned  from  her,  therefore,  that  some  of  the  chief  ele- 
ments of  whatever  success  I  expected  were  earnestness, 
intensity,  and  thorough  identification  with  every  part 
in  which  I  might  be  engaged." 

But  besides  the  advantage  of  coming  under  the 
guidance  of  Wallack,  Sothem  likewise  benefited 
by  his  contact  with  William  Stuart.  The  fact  that 
there  was  a  Mr.  Colin  Stuart  in  the  same  company 
made  "Douglas  Stuart"  drop  his  "nom  de  guerre" 
and  act  before  the  public  under  his  own  name.  On 
January  22,  1857,  a  turning-point  in  Sothem's  career 
was  reached  when,  as  Armand  Duval,  he  seconded 
Matilda  Heron's  Marguerite  Gautier,  and  won  dis- 
tinct applause. 

"Three  days  before  the  production,"  wrote  Sothem, 
"Mr.  Wallack  asked  me  if  I  could  study  the  part  of 
Armand  Duval  in  time.  To  his  amazement,  I  in- 
formed him  that  I  was  already  'up'  in  it,  and  I  went  to 
the  rehearsal  the  next  morning.  Miss  Heron's  success 
was  pronounced,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  re- 
ceived several  enthusiastic  calls.  This  was  my  first  up- 
ward move  to  that  position  in  the  profession  to  which 
I  had  aspired  for  years.  It  was  only  a  week  or  two  before 
this  that  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  return  to  England 
and  seek  some  other  employment." 

In  the  meantime,  during  the  summer  of  1856,  fol- 
lowing every  actor's  inclination  to  turn  manager, 
Sothem,  with  Henry  Isherwood,  had  directed  a 
theatre  at  Halifax.  It  must  have  been  a  provincial 
affair,  where  ambition  was  by  far  the  largest  part  of 
the  attempt.  For  though  good  plays  were  produced, 
the  environment  was  naught  to  inspire  one. 

"We  hired  a  bam,"  wrote  Sothem,  "scattered  sawdust 
on  the  floor,  secured  a  lot  of  benches  from  a  neighbor- 
ing church,  and  erected  a  small  platform  which  was 
lighted  by  candles." 

96 


Nor  would  the  public,  which  was  gathered  together  '^]^t 
during  two  seasons,  support  a  place  that  was  any  ^rtfllM*nd 
better;  for  after  Sothem  expended  a  considerable  ^Otyn^Up 
amount  of  money  on  the  erection  of  a  more  preten- 
tious hall,  he  found  himself  heavily  in  debt,  and 
thought  it  best  to  leave  town  suddenly,  only  returning 
when  he  could  satisfactorily  appease  the  wrath  of  his 
irate  creditors.  It  was  as  a  widower  that  Sothem  in 
early  life  married  Fannie  Stewart,  daughter  of  the 
Rev.  R.  I.  Stewart,  who  was  an  incumbent  of  a 
parish  in  the  County  Wexford,  Ireland.  The  young 
lady  was  Ukewise  granddaughter  of  the  Bishop  of 
Derry.  Through  the  first  attempts  and  failures  of  her 
husband  upon  the  stage,  Mrs.  Sothem,  cast  for  minor 
parts,  accompanied  him  wherever  he  went.  While 
playing  in  New  Orleans  during  1859,  the  actor's 
expense-book  was  graced  with  the  following  item: 
"Son  bom;  named  Edward  Hugh."  Another  child, 
Lytton,  was  then  three  years  of  age. 
His  success  as  Duval  thus  kept  Sothem  from  re- 
turning to  England.  Miss  Heron  now  mounted 
"Medea"  and  cast  him  as  Jason,  a  tragic  part  so 
totally  unfitted  to  him  that  he  turned  toward  Miss 
Keene  again,  in  whose  company  he  was  handed 
roles  of  the  most  insignificant  and  unpromising 
character. 

Sothem  is  an  instance  of  the  actor  who  can  build  up 
a  reputation  for  himself  with  a  limited  number  of 
parts;  by  so  doing,  however,  he  restricts  his  scope, 
and  he  narrows  the  judgment  of  his  public,  who, 
once  accepting  him  in  a  certain  line,  will  accept  him 
in  no  other.  Sothem's  wit  was  due  to  the  keen  dis- 
cernment he  evinced  and  to  the  close  study  he  always 
made  of  the  society  in  which  he  was  thrown.  The 
social  status  was  much  the  same  as  that  from  which 
Byron  and  Robertson  and  Boucicault  obtained  the 
atmosphere  for  many  of  their  plays.  This  v/as  the  era 
of  Bulwer.  The  artificiality  against  which  Sothem 

97 


'^Xyt  rubbed  revealed  to  him,  with  his  sense  of  hiunor,  an 

opportunity  of  holding  the  mirror  up  to  that  nature 

^Otl)Cirnj3  immediately  around  him.  It  was  all  in  the  way  he 
did  it;  Dundreary  has  died  with  him,  since  it  is 
hard  to  preserve  on  paper  the  inimitable  mimicry  of 
the  trivial. 

The  material  out  of  which  Dundreary  was  created 
was  not  that  furnished  by  Tom  Taylor,  the  author  of 
"Our  American  Cousin."  In  fact,  the  forty-seven 
speaking  lines  which  were  handed  Sothem  by  Miss 
Keene  were  afterward  lost  in  the  creation  which 
was  gradually  evolved.  When  he  first  received  the 
manuscript,  Sothem  frowned  and  openly  objected. 
Only  after  he  was  told  that  he  could  do  as  he  liked 
with  the  role,  did  he  agree  to  consider  the  part; 
Dundreary,  even  as  Topsy,  just  "growed."  But 
the  manner  in  which  that  growth  was  accomplished 
was  unlike  the  broad  style  that  has  in  later  days 
marked  our  coarse  farces ;  there  was  acute  observa- 
tion ;  there  were  keen  flashes — all  of  which  added  to 
and  built  up  a  figure  of  prime  importance.  From 
being  a  secondary  character.  Dundreary  became  the 
chief  attraction. 

The  play  had  been  refused  by  another  manager  when 
it  was  passed  over  to  Laura  Keene ;  she  too  was  about 
to  let  it  go,  when  her  manager,  John  Lutz,  detected 
in  it  what  he  thought  to  be  possibilities.  In  his  "Auto- 
biography" Joseph  Jefiferson  wrote : 

Here  was  a  rough  man,  having  no  dramatic  experience, 
but  gifted  with  keen,  practical  sense,  who  discovered  at 
a  glance  an  effective  play,  the  merits  of  which  had  es- 
caped the  vigilance  of  older  and,  one  would  have  sup- 
posed, better  judges.  He  gave  me  the  play  to  read. 
While  it  possessed  but  little  literary  merit,  there  was  a 
fresh,  breezy  atmosphere  about  the  characters  and  the 
story  that  attracted  me  very  much.  I  saw,  too,  the  chance 
of  making  a  strong  character  of  the  leading  part,  and  so 
I  was  quite  selfish  enough  to  recommend  the  play  for 
production. 

98 


ColUnion   T.  Mltton  Broun 

E.    H.    SOTHERN    IN    "CHANGE   ALLEY' 


The  reading  took  place  in  the  greenroom,  at  which  the    '^{10 
ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  company  were  assembled,  " 

and  many  furtive  glances  were  cast  at  Mr.  Couldock  ^Othft^ltCl 
and  me,  as  the  strength  of  Abel  Murcott  and  Asa  z"*'^*'*^*^*"**^ 
Trenchard  was  revealed.  Poor  Sothern  sat  in  the  cor- 
ner, looking  quite  disconsolate,  fearing  that  there  was 
nothing  in  the  play  that  would  suit  him ;  and  as  the  dis- 
mal lines  of  Dundreary  were  read  he  glanced  over  at 
me  with  a  forlorn  expression,  as  much  as  to  say,  "I  am 
cast  for  that  dreadful  part,"  little  dreaming  that  the 
character  of  the  imbecile  lord  would  turn  out  to  be  the 
stepping-stone  of  his  fortune. 

This  imbecility  of  the  Englishman  soon  became  an 
intellectual  study  which  at  once  placed  Sothem  in  the 
light  of  a  playwright,  deserving  as  much  credit  for 
the  conception  as  Taylor  himseS.  There  was  no  pad- 
ding ;  it  was  all  a  natural,  logical  following  of  a  char- 
acter that  was  the  product,  in  one  picture,  of  those 
brainless  follies  of  society  which  in  themselves  are  so 
meaningless,  yet  which  afford  such  scope  for  satire. 
The  play  of  "Our  American  Cousin"  is  a  very  dull 
and  artificial  effort  as  it  stands  in  the  Taylor  version ; 
it  is  however  replete  with  possibilities  for  the  actor, 
and  fortunately  the  first  cast  comprised  comedians 
who  recognized  fully  the  rich  contrasts  of  humor. 
In  a  setting  of  conventional  English  life  where  all 
the  old  stage  subterfuges  of  hidden  wills,  clandestine 
loves,  and  match-making  women  are  resorted  to, 
where  the  solicitor  is  a  villain,  and  the  father  is  on 
the  verge  of  financial  ruin,  such  a  warm-hearted 
character  as  Asa  Trenchard  proved  himself  to  be, 
especially  in  Jefferson's  hands,  created  a  deep  im- 
pression because  of  his  open  frankness.  This  drama 
is  one  which  was  "made"  after  the  actors  took  hold  of 
it :  they  entered  into  the  spirit  that  Taylor  only  par- 
tially realized  in  his  lines. 

Sothem's  Dundreary  was  played  to  the  Georgina  of 
his  wife.  There  was  a  love  scene  between  the  two, 
hard  to  equal  in  the  manner  it  was  rendered.  Dun- 
dreary did  most  of  the  talking. 

99 


(ll^nC  I've  been  a  bachelor  ever  since  I've  been  so  high,  and 

^         -  I've  got  rather  tired  of  that  sort  of  thing,  and  it  struck 

^^OtnCt^jS  ™e  '*  you'll  be  kind  enough  to  marry  me,  I  shall  be  very 

much  obliged  to  you. 

Of  course,  if  you  don't  see  the  matter  in  the  same  light, 
and  fancy  you'd  rather  not, — why,  I  don't  care  a  rap 
about  it.  .  .  .  You'll  find  me  a  very  nice  fellow, — at  least 
I  think  so, — that  is,  what  I  mean  is,  that  most  fellows 
think  me  a  nice  fellow, — two  fellows  out  of  three  would 
think  me  a  nice  fellow,  and  the  other  fellow, — the  third 
fellow, — well,  that  fellow  would  be  an  ass. 
I'm  very  good-tempered,  too;  that's  a  great  point,  isn't 
it?  You  look  as  if  you'd  got  a  good  temper;  but  then,  of 
course,  we  know  that  many  a  girl  looks  as  if  she'd  got 
a  good  temper  before  she's  married, — but  after  she's 
married  sometimes  a  fellow  finds  out  her  temper's  not 
exactly  what  he  fancied.  I'm  making  a  devil  of  a  mess 
of  it!  I  really  think  we  should  be  very  happy.  I'm  a  very 
domesticated  fellow, — fond  of  tea,  smoking  in  bed, — 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  merely  name  that  because 
it  gives  you  an  insight  into  a  fellow's  character. 
You'll  find  me  a  very  easy  fellow  to  get  along  with,  and 
after  we've  been  married  two  or  three  weeks,  if  you 
don't  like  me  you  can  go  back  again  to  your  mother. 

The  first  night  of  "Our  American  Cousin"  was  on 
October  i8,  1858,  and,  as  Jefferson  claimed,  was  the 
turning-point  in  three  careers,  for  he,  Miss  Keene, 
and  Sothem  were  all  received  with  favor.  However, 
it  must  in  no  way  be  thought  that  Dundreary,  on 
his  first  appearance,  was  as  rich  in  humor  as  we 
have  here  indicated.  When  it  is  said  that  the  con- 
ception was  a  growth,  it  was  a  growth  on  the  stage 
as  well  as  off ;  for  Dundreary  increased  from  night  to 
night,  as  the  fancy  seized  Sothem,  encouraged  as  he 
was  by  the  plaudits  of  the  crowd. 
Jefferson  and  Sothem  played  together  many  times 
during  their  careers.  Only  the  month  before,  an  ex- 
ceptional cast  in  "The  Rivals"  had  been  assembled, 
with  W.  R.  Blake  as  Sir  Anthony,  Mrs.  Blake  as 
Malaprop,  Miss  Keene  as  Lydia  Languish,  Mrs. 
Sothem  as  Lucy,  Jefferson  as  Bob  Acres,  and 
Sothern  as  Absolute,  a  r61e  which  in  his  hands 
100 


"lacked  the  soldier's  peculiar  step  and  bearing"  and  ^Vip^ 
the  "dry,  serious  humor";  but  it  did  present  a  well-  ^"^ 
dressed  officer  who  was  a  "gay,  rattling,  volatile  ^OtbCttt^ 
blade"  and  who  at  the  same  time  did  not  lack  refine- 
ment. Those  were  great  casts,  and  it  was  an  honored 
system  that  allowed  in  a  short  time  the  change  to 
"The  School  for  Scandal,"  with  Sothem's  Charles 
Surface,  Couldock's  Joseph,  and  Edwin  Varrey's 
Moses,  Then  again  the  programme  shifted  to  "A  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream,"  in  which  Varrey  must  have 
made  an  excellent  Quince,  Sothem  a  doubtful  Lys- 
ander,  and  Miss  Keene  an  interesting  Puck. 
The  professional  relation  existing  between  Sothem 
and  Miss  Keene  was  odd.  They  were  constantly  at 
variance,  yet  they  were  always  friends  during  their 
association.  She  welcomed  any  recognition  Sothem 
might  win  nightly  from  the  audiences ;  and  he,  with 
his  disposition,  would  brook  no  misunderstanding 
between  them  that  might  last  any  length  of  time. 
He  would  placidly  regard  her  momentary  ill-humor, 
and  in  some  unexpected  way  would  force  a  smile 
from  her.  On  one  such  occasion,  when  a  storm  was 
brev/ing,  he  called  out,  "Wait  a  bit,  Laura,"  and 
with  his  Dundreary  hop,  he  crossed  the  room  and 
turned  down  the  gas.  "Now  go  ahead,"  he  remarked. 
"I  do  hate  to  see  such  a  pretty  face  in  a  rage." 
It  was  purely  a  matter  of  the  typical  English  in  the 
part,  together  with  Sothem's  consummate  acting  of 
the  details  composing  it,  that  caused  Dundreary 
to  run  for  one  hundred  and  ninety-six  consecutive 
nights  in  London,  beginning  November  ii,  1861.  It 
had  been  performed  one  hundred  and  fifty  times  in 
America.  At  first  it  seemed  as  though  the  British 
public  would  have  none  of  it.  The  benches  at  the 
Haymarket  Theatre  remained  empty,  and  only  by 
degrees,  slowly  and  steadily,  did  the  fluid  fun  per- 
colate through  the  EngUsh  mind. 
The  play  failed  signally  to  appeal  in  Paris,  when 

lOI 


■^h^  Sothem  went  there  on  July  8,  1867,  but  that  was 

solely    because    Dundreary   was  stamped   all   over 

^Otl)CVn)2$  English.  This  prejudiced  the  French  people;  after- 
ward they  could  never  properly  estimate  the  true 
worth  of  Sothem's  art.  They  always  spoke  of  the 
man  in  uncomplimentary  terms,  and  among  the 
French  critics  only  Jules  Claretie  was  able  to  recog- 
nize and  to  appreciate  his  peculiar  and  individual 
style. 

During  this  Paris  engagement,  Henry  Irving  was  in 
the  cast  as  Abel  Murcott  and  Buckstone,  father  of 
the  Rowland  Buckstone,  who  for  years  has  been  with 
E.  H.  Sothem,  replaced  Jefferson  as  Asa  Tren- 
chard. 

The  play  finally  took  London  by  storm.  "Dundreary" 
coats  and  "Dundreary"  whiskers  became  the  rage; 
the  people  declared  this  well-meaning  fop  to  be  "the 
funniest  'thing'  in  the  world."  Doubtful  at  first  as  to 
how  an  English  public  would  countenance  such  a 
pointed  picture,  Buckstone,  as  manager  of  the  Hay- 
market,  was  surprised  at  the  phenomenal  success; 
for  he  had  opposed  the  piece  originally,  succumbing 
at  last  to  the  further  judgment  and  advice  of 
Charles  Mathews.  "Our  American  Cousin"  was  the 
success  of  the  season ;  it  netted  ;^30,ooo. 
The  public  watched  Sothem  intently ;  the  crowd  fol- 
lowed, as  crowds  do  when  they  are  pleased ;  what  he 
did,  they  likewise  did ;  he  was  the  idol  of  the  hour  1 
"At  one  time  he  bought  a  long  frieze  coat  from  a  pig- 
driver  in  Ireland,  because  he  thought  it  was  pictur- 
esque and  comfortable,  and  introduced  something 
like  it  on  the  stage,  and  thus  originated  the  ulster 
and  its  half-dozen  variations." 

In  dramatic  history  Sothem's  fame  rests  on  a  lim- 
ited repertoire,  yet  he  did  not  fail  to  present  new 
pieces.  He  was  constantly  changing  his  parts,  and 
before  long,  when  "Dundreary  "  was  at  his  height,  he 
was  "Married  and  Done  For"  (June  13,  1864),  and 
102 


furthermore  became  "A  Father."  Then,  in  quick  -^fjj^ 
succession,  Sothem  appeared  as  Frank  Jocelyn  in  ^""^ 
Watts  Philips's  "The  Woman  in  Mauve"  (Decern-  ^Otl^CtUjS 
ber  19,  1864),  and  acted  the  title-role  in  John  Oxen- 
ford's  "Brother  Sam"  (May,  1865).  Then  followed 
Frank  Annerley  in  "The  Favorite  of  Fortune"  (March, 
1865),  Harry  Vivian  in  Taylor's  "Lesson  for  Life" 
(December,  1866),  and  Robert  DevUn  in  "A  Wild 
Goose"  (April,  1867).  The  next  year  he  appeared  as 
an  impecimious  Marquis  in  an  adaptation  of  Feuillet's 
"The  Romance  of  a  Poor  Young  Man." 
After  his  first  London  success  in  "Our  American 
Cousin"  Sothem  remained  in  England  some  time, 
travelling  from  place  to  place — now  in  a  small  piece 
which  he  had  adapted  from  the  French  and  called 
"Aunt's  Advice"  (December,  1861),  then  in  "The 
Little  Treasure"  (March,  1863),  in  the  cast  of  which 
we  find  the  name  of  Ellen  Terry,  who  was  a  new  fig- 
ure on  the  stage;  in  addition,  Sothem  presented  a 
long  list  of  pieces  by  H.  J.  Byron  and  Robertson. 
There  was  one  play  which  had  been  offered  to  Jeffer- 
son under  the  title  of  "Across  the  Atlantic" ;  it  had 
actually  been  put  in  rehearsal,  when  Jefferson  with- 
drew it  and  the  manuscript  drifted  into  Sothem's 
hands;  it  found  favor  at  the  Haymarket  (January 
14,  1865),  rechristened  "Home."  A  similar  slip  in 
judgment  was  made  by  Sothem  himself,  when  he  was 
offered  Byron's  "Not  Such  a  Fool  as  He  Looks" ;  he 
refused  it  because  the  playwright  declined  to  make 
alterations  which  Sothem  thought  would  improve 
it.  So  the  manuscript  went  elsewhere,  and  un- 
changed, it  was  ultimately  produced  by  another 
company  with  success. 

As  David  Garrick  (London,  April  30,  1864),  as 
Fitzaltamont  in  "The  Crushed  Tragedian,"  which 
Sothem  claimed  "was  literally  a  tremendous  hit," 
but  which  from  all  accounts  was  vigorously  hissed ; 
and  as  Sydney  Spoonbill,  in  "The  Hornet's  Nest," 

103 


^llC  ^-  J"  Florence  recognized  Sothem's  "superb  Meis- 

^         sonier-like  minuteness  of  art  with  which  he  produced 

I^Ot^CVn^  nature  in  pictures  that  were  harmoniously  perfect." 
Florence  and  Sothern  were  fast  friends;  many  a 
night  they  spent  together  over  camp-fires  in  Canada, 
and  each  found  in  the  other  a  kindred  spirit  when  a 
practical  joke  was  afoot. 

Some  of  the  plays  produced  by  Sothem  contained 
passages  which  the  actor  was  zealous  to  claim  as  his 
own.  The  history  of  "David  Garrick",  for  instance,  if 
a  varied  one.  It  was  originally  a  translation  from  the 
German  and  possessed  the  proud  distinction  of  hav- 
ing been  refused  by  every  manager  of  importance— 
a  fate  shared  by  many  a  play  afterward  popular.  " . 
next  simmered  in  poor  Robertson's  closet  for  eij  r 
long  years.  Then  there  came  a  day  when  the  dran: 
tist  wrote  a  play  for  Sothem  called  "Society"  whi 
the  actor,  after  mature  but  unwise  deliberatio 
returned.  The  piece  was  at  last  acted  successfuU 
by  Mrs.  Bancroft  (Marie  Wilton).  Nothing  daunted 
Robertson  now  casually  mentioned  his  play  "David 
Garrick,"  and  Sothem,  only  too  anxious  to  be 
obliging  after  the  dramatist's  effort  to  please  him, 
read  the  manuscript  which  was  drawn  from  its 
oblivion,  and  felt  that  despite  its  crudity  there  were 
good  points  in  it.  After  considering  the  play  himself, 
he  turned  it  over  to  Buckstone,  who  refused  to  accept 
it  for  the  Haymarket.  Sothem  persisted.  Thackeray 
and  John  Leech,  both  friends  of  the  actor,  expressed 
openly  their  fear  that  he  would  never  be  able  to  do 
the  romantic  part.  But  in  the  face  of  all  opposition, 
Sothern  worked  on  the  manuscript,  instituting  cer- 
tain changes  until  it  assumed  satisfactory  shape.  Had 
Boucicault  retained  his  royalty  rights  in  "Rip  Van 
Winkle,"  had  Robertson  not  sold  "David  Garrick"  to 
Lacy  for  ;;^io,  each  would  have  reaped  a  fortune  on 
these  two  plays  alone. 

Time  came,  however,  when  Sothem  wanted  it  known 
104 


E.    H.    50THERN 


how  much  of  this  play  was  of  his  own  writing.  He  '^h^ 
had  had  the  satisfaction,  so  he  said,  of  hearing  John    -^ 
Oxenford  declare  that  he,  Sothern,  was  really  the  ^Ot^CttT? 
author  of  "Brother  Sam";  everyone  knew  that  he 
had  conceived  the  love  scene  in  "Home";  now  he 
claimed  the  entire  second  act  of  "Garrick."  Robert- 
son's son  later  on  came  forward  and  objected  to  all 
this;  he  said  that  Sothem's  work  showed  no  origi- 
nality ;  he  pointed  out  what  he  thought  were  nothing 
but  jokes  which  did  little  to  enhance  the  value  of 
his  father's  work.  Dispute  waxed  strong  between  the 
two,  Lester  Wallack   coming  forward  in   1877  as 
Sothem's  champion. 

"Trade,"  a  play  which  E.  H.  Sothern  presented  one 
season  under  the  title  of  "The  Highest  Bidder,"  was 
also  partly  from  his  father's  pen.  But  we  cannot 
always  tell,  in  the  creation  of  a  role,  what  little 
points,  what  humorous  lines  the  actor  may  add  for 
the  sake  of  effect.  Joseph  Jefiferson  made  changes 
and  alterations  in  all  of  his  plays,  and  he  claimed  the 
process  legitimate.  He  was  once  asked  by  Francis 
Wilson  if  he  owned  a  prompt-book  of  "The  Rivals'* 
showing  how  much  he  had  added  to  enrich  the  part 
of  Bob  Acres.  Jefferson  answered  no.  Indeed  all 
actors  will  tell  stories  of  how  difl&cult  it  is  for  them 
to  retain  their  cues  where  a  leading  player  inter- 
sperses, at  the  slightest  provocation,  new  lines  which 
help  the  scene  and  produce  a  better  effect.  Sup- 
porting actors  have  to  be  on  the  alert  for  the  wit  of 
the  moment. 

Sothern,  though  he  was  equally  well  known  in 
England  and  America,  always  recognized  this  coun- 
try as  his  actor-birthplace.  However  much  he  trav- 
elled in  Great  Britain,  he  managed  to  remain  like- 
wise in  the  United  States  for  long  periods  at  a  time. 
Yet  when  he  felt  his  physical  condition  giving  way  in 
1880,  he  quickly  returned  to  London.  Edwin  Booth 
was  there  that  year.  On  January  22,  1 881,  he  wrote: 

105 


*^9^  "After  I  had  finished 'Othello' last  evening  .  .  .  I  was 

^nthrttt^    told  of  poor  Sothem's  death.  I  had  passed  an  hour 

^     "  with  him  on  Monday,  and  I  really  thought  he  might 

die  while  I  was  at  his  bedside— he  was  so  emaciated 

and  weak." 

A  monument  erected  by  his  son  Edward  marks  his 
grave  at  Southampton. 

As  a  man  Sothem  was  many-sided,  a  character  built 
upon  a  nervous  and  quickly  responsive  temperament. 
He  was  so  sensitive  that  the  slightest  variations  an- 
noyed him.  He  speaks  somewhere  of  his  sister  not 
being  able  to  bear  the  sight  of  grapes.  He  abhorred 
the  odor  of  cologne.  A  thousand  and  one  trivial  things 
would  distract  his  attention,  such  as  the  misplace- 
ment of  a  picture,  or  an  ornament  awry. 
Sothem  was  a  man  of  the  world,  endowed  with  a 
superabundance  of  good  fellowship — more  than  was 
wise  for  him,  since  his  lavishness  as  host  was  one  of 
the  direct  causes  of  his  rapid  decline  in  health.  He 
was  generous  to  a  fault,  dispensing  charity  where  it 
was  most  needed,  and  where  it  would  attract  least 
notice.  Yet  had  Sothem  not  been  possessed  of  a  dis- 
cerning mind,  he  would  have  been  what  is  commonly 
regarded  as  a  dilettante.  A  lover  of  bric-a-brac,  a  dab- 
bler in  painting,  a  good  judge  of  horses,  a  connois- 
seur of  wines,  a  practical  joker — a  sportsman  and  a 
jolly  comrade — this  was  Edward  Askew  Sothem. 
No  player  has  been  more  the  product  of  his  time ;  no 
player  has  been  more  generous  to  his  contempora- 
ries than  he.  Sothem's  one  great  enemy  was  Dion 
Boucicault ;  his  other  professional  associates  were  not 
only  always  sure  of  being  graciously  received,  but 
were  quick  to  respond  to  his  humor  of  the  moment. 
In  Byron,  the  playwright,  Sothem's  interest  was 
always  deep,  acknowledging  his  spontaneity  of  com- 
position, where  "every  sentence  is  an  epigram."  He 
was  particular  and  ofttimes  vivid  in  his  summary 
of  a  man;  he  knew  the  limitations  of  Robertson, 
1 06 


though  admiring  his  prolific  pen.  Speaking  of  Buck-    r^x^f, 
stone,  Sothem  once  said:  "A  simple  'Good  morning'     VL^C 
from  him  seems  to  set  the  house  in  a  roar.  His  per-    %)Otll  CtUJJ 
sonal  magnetism  is  simply  wonderful  ...  He  is  hke 
old  William  Warren  of  Boston,  a  perennial  favorite. 
He  acts  as  if  he  had  strings  on  all  of  his  fingers 
attached  to  the  audience  in  front,  and  plays  with 
them  and  pulls  them  about  just  as  he  wants." 
So  too  was  Sothem  as  eager  to  recognize  the  gen- 
ius of  W.  S.  Gilbert  and  the  brilliancy  of  Charles 
Mathews.  Literally  living  under  two  flags,  he  was 
ever  ready  and  anxious  to  balance  the  dramatic  scale 
of  England  and  America.   Off-hand,  he  would  draw 
resemblances  between  Toole  and  Florence,  between 
Chippendale  and  John  Gilbert,  Kendal  and   Lester 
Wallack,  Miss  Larkin  and  Mrs.  Gilbert.  Of  the  rising 
generation,  he  would  point  to  John  Hare,  who  owes 
much  to  Sothem's  friendship. 

But  while  he  had  his  serious  moods,  somehow  Soth- 
em could  never  assume  these  moods  in  his  work. 
Critics  have  laughed  good-naturedly  over  his  pathos, 
as  exhibited  in  "David  Garrick" ;  they  have  called  it 
insufferably  dull.  Sothem  "strove"  for  sad  effects, 
whereas  his  method  of  acting  was  ebullient. 
At  rehearsal  he  was  always  particular  regarding  mi- 
nute effects ;  his  work  was  composed  of  a  blend  of  the 
trivial  eccentricities  of  character.  He  was  a  pre- 
Raphaelite,  said  one  critic,  for  nobody  could  repro- 
duce nature  in  such  minuteness  as  he  when  he 
pleased.  He  was  fortunate  in  being  able  to  express 
the  expressionless;  no  one  was  more  successful  in 
showing  blank  bewilderment. 

We  have  claimed  for  Sothem  the  distinction  of  being 
a  playwright  in  the  sense  that  he  could  enlarge  a 
suggestion.  He  had  a  proper  view  of  the  work, 
which  would  have  served  him  well  had  he  seriously 
turned  his  attention  to  an  original  drama.  His  dread 
of  wordiness  in  dialogue  found  vent  in  some  advice 

107 


^h^  he  offered  to  a  young  dramatist:  "Write  your  plays  in 

^  telegrams.  .  .  .  The  public  of  to-day  have  got  used  to 

^Otl)Cntj3  telegrams,  and  prefer  them  to  the  polite  correspon- 
dence of  the  Richardsonian  days." 
Sothem  was  by  no  means  prejudiced  against  the  new 
pla5rwright;  even  though  nearly  every  one  he  met 
seemed  either  to  be  writing  a  play  or  selling  wines,  as 
he  expressed  it,  he  was  willing  to  consider  the  drama 
of  any  who  approached  him.  It  must  not  be  written 
as  a  one-part  play;  he  was  not  trying  to  over- 
emphasize himself.  A  good  plot,  with  the  essential 
love  element  was  what  he  desired. 
Edward  Lytton,  the  eldest  son,  was  bom  on  June  27, 
1856,  and  his  first  real  appearance  was  at  Drury 
Lane  as  Captain  Vernon  in  "Our  American  Cousin" 
on  July  24, 1872.  In  the  following  year,  his  American 
ddbut  occurred  at  the  Philadelphia  Walnut  Street 
Theatre  in  "The  Marble  Heart."  Then  he  expe- 
rienced a  season  of  light  comedy  and  "juvenile" 
roles.  With  his  father,  in  1874,  he  toured  the  United 
States,  returning  to  England  later  on  to  play  at  the 
Royal  Theatre,  Birmingham.  After  that  he  went  to 
Australia,  and  again  came  to  America,  acting  many 
pieces  in  his  father's  repertoire.  His  career  was  a 
short  one,  for  he  died  on  March  4,  1887.  Eva  and 
Sam  Sothem  have  proven  themselves  satisfactory 
support,  appearing  in  casts  with  their  brother  Edward, 
besides  serving  in  various  capacities  both  in  London 
and  New  York. 

Edward  Hugh  Sothem  is  his  father's  distinct  suc- 
cessor. Born,  as  before  noted,  on  December  6,  1859, 
in  New  Orleans,  79  Bienville  Street,  at  an  early  age 
he  was  taken  to  England  (1864). 
There  in  course  of  time  young  Sothem  was  placed 
at  school.  At  Dunchurch,  near  Rugby,  and  at  St. 
Marylebone  and  All  Souls,  he  spent  a  great  part  of 
his  youth.  Then  his  father  attempted  to  make  an 
artist  out  of  him,  even  placing  him  in  the  art  school 
108 


Ci^e 


of  the  London  Royal  Academy.  But  whatever  talents 
in  this  line  he  may  have  inherited  from  the  paternal 
side,  to  a  larger  extent  he  possessed  the  Thespian  ^Otl^CtttjJ 
tastes,  and  so  finally  he  prevailed  over  contrary 
opinions  and  entered  his  father's  company,  while 
"Brother  Sam"  was  running  at  Abbey's  Park 
Theatre,  on  Broadway  and  near  Twenty-second 
Street  (September,  1879).  The  part  was  that  of  a  cab- 
driver — a  paltry  few  lines  which  he  proceeded  to 
forget  on  the  instant  the  curtain  was  rung  up.  "Why 
don't  you  say  something?"  exclaimed  the  elder 
Sothem  in  an  undertone,  "can't  you  speak?" 
Undaunted,  as  his  father  before  him,  the  young  ac- 
tor now  went  to  the  Boston  Museum,  where  "Pan- 
gloss"  had  been  turned  down  in  1852,  and  armed 
with  a  letter  from  the  "paterfamilias,"  his  long 
struggle  began.  "Poor  Eddie  is  a  nice,  lovable  boy," 
wrote  the  father,  "but  he  will  never  make  an  actor." 
Returning  to  London  in  the  spring  of  1880,  young 
Sothem  joined  the  Charles  Wyndham  company;  he 
remained  there  until  after  his  father's  death;  then, 
when  Mrs.  Sothem  died  in  1882,  he  joined  forces 
with  his  brother  Lytton,  and  travelled  for  a  season, 
finally  turning  toward  America  in  1883.  Here  in  a 
professional  capacity,  he  has  remained  ever  since. 
Unfortunately,  at  this  stage  of  the  game,  after  he  had 
served  awhile  with  Barrett  and  John  McCullough, 
Sothem  found  himself  with  a  play  upon  his  hands — 
a  "great"  farce,  written  by  himself,  and  called 
"Whose  Are  They?"  All  else  had  to  be  brushed 
aside,  and  his  entire  worldly  substance  was  poured 
into  the  venture  which  the  would-be  playwright  was 
confident  of  making  a  success.  But  it  stranded  him 
after  a  few  weeks  at  the  Star  Theatre,  beginning 
May  26,  1884.  His  close  friend  during  this  time  was 
Joseph  Haworth,  who  was  in  the  cast  with  Eva 
Sothem.  As  a  playwright,  Mr.  Sothem  in  later  years 
wrote   (1904)   "The  Light  that  Lies  in  Woman's 

109 


'grjip  Eyes,"  which  was  presented  by  Virginia  Hamed,  and 

2/  \      .  failed. 

;^0tl)CVnj8  Now  followed  the  vicissitudes  of  short  engagements, 
one  with  Charles  Frohman,  who  was  making  his 
first  strides  toward  the  position  he  was  to  occupy  as  a 
theatrical  manager.  But  it  was  while  with  Estelle 
Clayton  in  "Favette"  and  "Mona"  that  Sothem  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  John  Rickaby,  who  was 
managing  Helen  Dauvray.  He  secured  an  engage- 
ment with  that  new  company,  and  during  this  period 
Daniel  Frohman  began  to  recognize  in  the  young 
actor  the  possibiUties  of  a  "star." 
Through  sheer  pluck  and  confidence — for  he  Uterally 
haunted  the  oflBces  of  the  managers — Sothem  found 
his  opportunity  in  1885,  when  Bronson  Howard's 
"One  of  Our  Girls"  was  produced,  and  he  met  success 
in  the  role  of  Captain  John  Gregory.  During  the 
season  of  1886-87  he  remained  with  Miss  Dauvray, 
whose  repertoire  included  "A  Scrap  of  Paper,"  "Met 
by  Chance,"  "Masks  and  Faces,"  and  "Walda 
Lamar"  (in  which  Alexander  Salvini  played).  Fi- 
nally, when  the  company  disbanded,  and  young 
Sothem's  fortunes  were  at  their  lowest  ebb,  Daniel 
Frohman  formed  with  him  the  association  which 
was  to  lead  him  to  prominence.  Successes  without 
number  followed:  "The  Highest  Bidder"  (1887); 
"Chumley"  (1888) ;  "The  Maister  of  Woodbarrow" 
(1890);  "The  Dancing  Girl"  and  "Letterblair" 
(1891).  In  such  plays  as  "The  Prisoner  of  Zenda" 
(1895),  "An  Enemy  to  the  King"  (1896),  and  "The 
King's  Musketeers"  (1899),  he  manifested  a  rare 
talent  for  romance  that  brought  him  immediately  to 
the  fore  as  an  exponent  of  the  romantic  drama. 
So,  too,  one  season  he  acted  in  a  symbolic  play  of 
Hauptmaim's  called  "The  Sunken  Bell"  (1900),  beau- 
tifully rendered  into  English  by  Charles  Henry  Melt- 
zer;  but  the  audience  ignored  the  effort,  though  it 
was  a  worthy  one  which  Mr.  Sothem  intends  to  re- 
peat. His  ventures  in  "If  I  Were  King,"  a  picturesque 
no 


VIRGINIA    HARNED 


incident  in   the  life  of  Francois  Villon,  and  "The  "C^ftC 
Proud  Prince"  are  deserving  of  note.  (STntTi frnd 

Having  shown  himself  capable  of  shades  of  comedy,  ^Ot^^*''**' 
Sothem  made  a  worthy  move  when  he  appeared 
as  Hamlet  (1899),  for  which  his  temperament 
seemed  well  adapted.  Some  while  before  this,  Vir- 
ginia Hamed  was  his  leading  lady ;  she  became  Mrs. 
Sothem  on  December  3,  1896. 

Mrs.  Sothem  is  an  American  product.  After  serving 
her  apprenticeship  on  the  road,  her  first  character  in 
support  of  Mr.  Sothem  was  Clara  Dexter  in  "The 
Maister  of  Woodbarrow."  She  then  appeared  in 
"Chumley,"  "Captain  Letterblair,"  and  other  plays. 
Her  creation  of  the  role  of  Trilby  (1895)  was  her 
next  distinct  stride.  Since  then,  she  has  played  inter- 
mittently with  her  husband:  in  "The  Lady  of  Lyons" 
(1897),  "The  Adventures  of  Lady  Ursula"  (1898), 
and  "A  Colonial  Girl"  (1898),  besides  appearing  as 
Ophelia.  In  the  modern  drama  her  most  noteworthy 
attempt  thus  far  has  been  in  Pinero's  "Iris,"  though 
her  Camille  (1904)  received  careful  attention. 
Thus  far,  the  most  important  step  Mr.  Sothem  has 
taken  has  been  his  professional  association  with 
Miss  Julia  Marlowe,  an  artist  of  rare  qualities  and 
fine  intellect.  In  these  days  of  theatrical  competition, 
large  capital  only  can  effect  such  a  combination.  But 
the  art  results  have  yielded  their  benefit.  Six  Shake- 
spearian plays  thus  far  comprise  a  repertoire  that 
shows  an  ambition  and  versatility  possessed  by  few 
modem  players. 

Until  the  so-called  co-star  arrangement  was  made, 
Miss  Marlowe  had  fairly  toyed  with  the  slim  roles 
contained  in  the  dramatized  novels  of  the  historical 
type.  But  in  the  higher  drama  she  displays  in  voice, 
manner,  and  interpretation  a  poetic  sense,  a  himian 
warmth,  and  a  spontaneous  feeling — all  tending  to 
produce  in  her  Juliet,  her  Viola,  her  Beatrice,  her 
Portia,  a  color  that  makes  them  real  and  warm  and 
true. 


Ill 


^\\£  What  may  be  said  of  Mr.  Sothem  is,  that  sincerity, 

^  earnestness,  and  a  student's  sense  of  proportion  have 

^Otl)CnXj2J  marked  his  work.  His  ambition  appears  to  be  based 
on  sound  judgment  and  careful  thought — perhaps 
too  careful,  since  in  his  Hamlet  and  in  his  Shylock 
there  is  a  slowness  that  betokens  imitation  of  a 
remembered  model.  But  there  is  a  healthy  activity  in 
the  fact  that  the  actor  is  not  wholly  tied  down  by 
tradition ;  he  does  not  hesitate  to  make  innovations 
in  the  text,  and  his  stage  management  is  vigorous  and 
good. 

He  has  conceived  his  Katharine  and  Petruchio  a 
pair  of  romping  lovers ;  to  some  who  have  seen  the 
proud  rage  of  Ada  Rehan,  seconded  by  the  courtly 
banter  of  her  lord  and  master,  this  is  as  startling  as 
though  the  actor  had  placed  a  red  wig  upon  Shylock, 
according  to  Macklin,  and  interpreted  the  role  as  a  hu- 
morous one,  to  agree  with  the  EUzabethan  conception. 
A  feeling  is  uppermost  in  mind  regarding  the  son  of 
E.  A.  Sothem  that  his  serious  and  intellectual  moods, 
as  shown  on  the  stage,  are  infused  elements,  not  as 
native  to  him  as  the  lighter  vein  which  made  many 
associate  his  Chumley  with  his  father's  Dundreary. 
During  the  old  Lyceimi  days  in  New  York,  before 
the  little  playhouse  was  swallowed  up  by  a  mon- 
strous building,  Sothem  fairly  revelled  in  his  com- 
bination of  comedy  and  love  sustained  at  the  point 
of  the  sword.  He  has  what  his  father  lacked — the 
romantic  mood — but  he  inherits  from  his  father 
the  comedian's  talent.  Perhaps  it  is  the  strong  seri- 
ousness he  upholds  that  separates  father  and  son  in 
their  spheres  as  actors.  Mr.  Sothem's  grace  as  a  lyric 
poet  suggests  his  natural  inclination  toward  the  light 
comedy  of  modem  days ;  his  remarks  published  from 
time  to  time  regarding  the  drama  indicate  his  desire 
to  reach  beyond  his  inherited  abilities.  In  him  the 
Sothern  family  of  actors  is  worthily  preserved  for 
our  generation. 

112 


V— THE  BOUaCAULTS 


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IB 


V— THE  BOUCICAULTS 

GENERALLY  have  to  start  at 
the  beginning  of  the  alphabet," 
said  Aubrey  Boucicault,  "when  I 
attempt  to  recollect  all  the  plays 
my  father  wrote."  The  majority 
of  our  great  actors  were  men  of 
more  than  one  activity.  It  is  true 
that  their  interests  always  con- 
verged toward  the  consimiing 
topic  of  the  stage,  but  the  variety  in  their  several 
branches  was  sufficient  to  make  demands  upon 
separate  executive  powers.  We  have  already  noted 
this  fact  in  the  cases  of  Booth  and  Jefferson ;  but  no- 
where is  it  more  emphatically  exempUfied  than  in 
the  life-work  of  Dion  Boucicault.  For  at  different 
periods  he  was  actor,  lecturer,  pamphleteer,  head  of 
a  school,  and  manager ;  while  at  all  times  he  was 
playwright,  and  as  such  he  will  be  remembered  by 
future  generations. 

Yet,  though  his  plays  number  over  four  hundred,  only 
a  few  of  them,  of  which  "London  Assurance,"  "The 
Colleen  Bawn,"  and  "The  Shaughraun"  represent 
the  special  types,  are  at  all  familiar  to  the  theatre- 
goer of  the  present.  These  are  mentioned  because 
they  are  indicative  of  the  "genres"  of  the  Boucicault 
drama:  the  Irish  models  destined  to  influence  many 
future  melodramas,  and  the  comedy  of  manners, 
itself  a  brusque  imitation  of  all  that  is  sprightly  and 
artificial  in  Goldsmith  and  Sheridan. 
Because  Boucicault  was  so  intimately  connected 
with  theatrical  Ufe,  he  was  narrowed  by  that  very 
knowledge  of  stagecraft  which  made  him  strain 
character  for  situation.  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  in  his 
estimate  of  Mrs.  Mowatt,  the  actress,  referred  to 
"that  despicable  mass  of  inanity  'London  Assur- 
ance.' "  However  sweeping  this  opinion  may  be,  it 
warns  us  at  the  outset  to  approach  the  Boucicault 

115 


•^l)C  drama  from  across  the  footlights,  and  not  at  closer 

O OU CI CnU  110  The  records  of  this  dramatist's  early  life  are  contra- 
dictory. He  was  bom  in  Dublin,  on  December  26, 
1822,  and  was  christened  Dionysius  Lardner  Bouci- 
cault,  after  the  great  philologist  and  pamphle- 
teer, Dr.  Lardner,  who  was  satirized  by  Thackeray  in 
"The  Yellowpluch  Papers." 

Samuel  S.  Boucicault  was  the  father  of  Dion,  and 
there  is  some  indication  that,  being  a  Frenchman,  his 
name  was  spelled  "Bosquet."  This  was  further  trans- 
formed into  "Boursiquot,"  and  once  more  changed 
to  "Bourcicault,"  which  was  the  spelling  retained 
imtil  circa  1856,  when  the  "r"  was  dropped. 
Some  say  that  the  father  by  profession  was  a  banker 
and  a  brewer,  while  others  would  assert  that  he  was 
a  draper;  not  content,  another  source  would  claim 
that  when  young  Dion  went  to  Paris,  he  adopted  the 
title  of  "Viscount,"  and  the  report  at  the  time  was 
circulated  that  he  was  of  noble  extraction. 
On  the  mother's  side,  Boucicault  received  his  great- 
est heritage;  she  was  a  Miss  Darley,  an  Irish  lady, 
and  sister  of  the  essayist  and  dramatist,  George 
Darley,  as  well  as  of  the  Rev.  Charles  Darley,  who 
wrote  "Plighted  Troth,"  a  play  which  failed  so  sig- 
nally at  Drury  Lane.  Boucicault  appears  to  have 
shown  some  pleasure  over  this  result,  for  his  uncle 
had  regarded  his  own  first  efforts  as  works  of  a 
schoolboy. 

Dion  was  the  youngest  of  four,  his  three  brothers 
being  William  (a  banker),  and  George  and  Arthur, 
twins.  Up  to  the  age  of  nineteen,  when  his  first  play 
was  written,  contradictory  statements  are  to  be 
found  regarding  his  education.  One  says  that  he  was 
placed  by  Dr.  Lardner  v;ith  Stephenson,  the  famous 
engineer,  where  he  studied  for  a  while ;  and  that  he 
showed  remarkable  technical  skill  in  his  plans  for  the 
water-works  of  London.  The  same  writer  adds  that 
116 


DION   BOUCICAULT. 


Boucicault  "rode  on  the  first  engine  of  Stephen-  '^\it 
son's  that  ran  between  Liverpool  and  Manchester."  'yxftirfiraultd 
There  are  various  records  of  his  having  attended  A50uClVaUHp 
London  University,  where  he  counted  among    his 
friends  Charles  Lamb  Kenney,  a  namesake  of  Elia. 
Pascoe  gives  Dublin  as  his  school-centre.  Yet  those 
who  knew  Boucicault,  notably  Stephen  Fiske,  won- 
dered at  his  knowledge,  and  puzzled  over  how  he 
secured  his  education. 

In  March,  1838,  the  first  professional  step  was  taken 
when  Dion  joined  a  dramatic  company  at  Chelten- 
ham, England,  and  was  billed  as  Mr.  Lee  Moreton. 
His  maiden  role  was  Norfolk  in  "Richard  III." 
Fourteen  years  after,  he  made  his  London  d^but. 
But  before  this,  in  1848,  he  was  a  widower,  having 
been  married  since  1844  to  a  woman  much  his  sen- 
ior. The  alliance  was  not  a  happy  one,  and  when 
she  died  in  Switzerland  Boucicault  returned  to  Lon- 
don, swathed  in  great  mystery.  He  possessed  a  small 
fortime,  to  which  was  added  the  bounty  of  one 
of  his  relatives.  Boucicault's  silence  about  his  for- 
eign life  created  considerable  suspicion.  Certain  it 
is  that  his  wife's  death  did  not  deeply  affect  young 
Dion,  who,  when  he  reached  England,  proceeded  to 
live  in  an  extravagant  manner. 
The  public  eye  was  already  upon  him;  at  a  surpris- 
ingly youthful  age  he  had  met  success  with  the  first 
of  his  dramas,  "London  Assurance,"  given  its  pre- 
miere at  Covent  Garden,  on  March  4,  1841.  The  name 
it  bore  proved  to  be  a  hasty  substitution  made  just 
before  the  rise  of  the  curtain,  for  originally  it  was 
called  "Out  of  Town." 

"It  will  not  bear  analysis  as  a  literary  production," 
wrote  the  author  in  a  preface  to  the  second  edition  of 
the  printed  play.  "In  fact,  my  sole  object  is  to  throw 
together  a  few  scenes  of  a  dramatic  nature,  and  there- 
fore I  studied  the  stage  rather  than  the  moral  effect.  I 
attempted  to  instil  a  pungency  into  the  dialogue,  and 

XI7 


■(^hf  to  procure  vivid  tones  by  a  strong  antithesis  of  char- 

acter. The  moral  which  I  intended  to  convey  is  ex- 

^OUCtCclUltjSi  pressed  in  the  last  speech  of  the  comedy,  but  as  I  wrote 

'currente  calamo'  I  have  doubtless  through  the  play 
strayed  far  wide  of  my  original  intent." 

"Barefaced  assurance  is  the  vulgar  substitute  for 
gentlemanly  ease,"  says  Sir  Harcourt  Courtley. 
". . .  The  title  of  gentleman  is  the  only  one  out  of  any 
monarch's  gift,  yet  within  the  reach  of  every  peas- 
ant." This  is  the  substance  of  that  last  speech. 
As  Boucicault  said,  the  "motive"  was  not  sufficiently 
emphasized,  but  the  stage  pictures  were  effective  and 
the  characters  afforded  ample  scope  for  good  acting. 
Boucicault  has  written  his  own  account  of  his  d6but 
as  a  dramatist,  colored  v/ith  a  tinge  of  pleasant 
romance ;  he  has  told  in  a  minute  way  his  feelings 
as  he  took  the  first  play  to  Charles  Mathews,  who 
read  it  as  a  one-act  piece.  Surprised  on  seeing 
such  a  boy  before  him,  Mathews  encouraged  him, 
though  handing  back  the  manuscript.  Boucicault  at 
the  time  thought  that  had  the  drama  been  a  five-act 
comedy,  Mathews  might  have  taken  it,  so  in  a  few 
days  he  remodelled  it  and  astonished  Mathews  by 
his  quick  reappearance.  The  play,  now  a  larger  roll 
of  manuscript,  was  read  and  accepted.  But  when  put 
in  rehearsal; 

"Scene  after  scene,"  said  Boucicault  in  his  pen-picture, 
"was  rewritten  at  the  prompt-table  and  handed  wet  to 
the  company.  Thus  the  last  speech  of  the  play,  which  is 
technically  termed  'the  tag,'  was  composed  and  handed 
to  Max  Harkaway.  The  next  day,  or  on  some  subse- 
quent day,  Vestris  took  the  author  aside  and  said: 
'Farren  wants  to  speak  "the  tag."  I  suppose  you  don't 
mind?'  'Well,'  said  the  author,  looking  up  with  his 
Irish  smile,  'will  it  not  sound  rather  strange  in  the 
mouth  of  Sir  Harcourt  Courtley?'  [Originally  called 
Sir  William  Dazzle,  the  surname  afterward  used  for 
another  character.]  'Oh,  never  mind — I  am  sure  the 
public  will  not.  Bartley  does  not  object;  in  fact,  he  ap- 
proves.' And  so  it  stood." 

ii8 


The  whole  play  was  cut  after  a  conventional  model    '^1^0 
of  which  "The  School  for  Scandal"  is  the  most  poig-    'yxMifiraxHt^ 
nant  example.  Boucicault  was  too  yoimg  to  do  aught     -'OUUHtttUlLp 
but  reflect  what  he  either  had  heard  or  had  read. 
One  may  forestall  his  dialogue  by  the  apparent  direct- 
ness with  which  the  author  works  up  to  a  point  or 
situation. 

"  'London  Assurance'  was  made  to  order  on  the  shortest 
possible  notice,"  the  dramatist  continued.  "I  could  have 
wished  that  my  first  appearance  before  the  public  had 
not  been  in  this  out-of-breath  style ;  but  I  saw  my  op- 
portunity at  hand.  I  knew  how  important  it  was  not  to 
neglect  the  chance  of  production,  the  door  was  open,  I 
had  a  run  for  it,  and  here  I  am!" 

For  such  a  yoimg  man  the  play  exhibited  a  remark- 
able proficiency  and  surety  in  dialogue,  besides  the- 
atrical richness.  Once  Boucicault  spoke  of  wit  as  not 
possessing  a  soft  and  genial  quality  —  of  its  being 
more  admirable  than  endearing;  and  he  condemned 
its  excessive  application  as  heartless.  For  this  very 
reason  he  stigmatized  "The  School  for  Scandal"  as 
the  most  cold-blooded  drama  on  the  stage. 
But  in  writing  "London  Assurance,"  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  Boucicault's  eye  was  upon  this  more 
polished  comedy  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Nor, 
after  all,  was  there  much  originality  in  "London 
Assurance,"  for,  in  other  forms,  its  plot  had  been 
used  before,  and  John  Brougham  himself  came  for- 
ward claiming  his  share,  not  only  in  conceiving  the 
character  of  Dazzle,  but  in  supervising  the  con- 
struction of  the  whole  piece.  A  long  dispute  followed, 
and  Lester  Wallack  gave  his  opinion  in  favor  of 
Brougham;  but  the  latter  was  not  overanxious  to 
receive  his  just  deserts,  whatever  they  might  be ; 
his  friends  were  the  ones  who  persisted  in  push- 
ing the  case.  Finally,  it  is  believed,  the  two  authors 
went  to  an  attorney's  ofiice  in  London,  and  there 
Brougham   prepared  a   statement  as  to  his  exact 

119 


(th^  share  in  the  work,  and  forthwith  signed  away  all 

-        further  claims  on  receipt  of  a  substantial  check  from 

'}30UClCSlUt|5  Boucicault.  The  dispute  left  no  marked  ill-feeling, 
since  Brougham  afterward  appeared  in  many  of  the 
Boucicault  dramas.  Among  them  he  played  O'Grady 
in  "Arrah-na-Pogue." 

Such  a  misunderstanding  at  the  outset  of  the  dram- 
atist's career  is  significant;  it  was  to  be  repeated 
many  times  during  the  years  to  come.  In  fact, 
Charles  Reade's  remark  should  be  borne  in  mind : 

"Like  Shakespeare  and  Molifere,"  he  said,  "the  beg- 
gar," meaning  Boucicault,  "steals  everything  he  can 
lay  his  hands  on;  but  he  does  it  so  deftly,  so  cleverly, 
that  I  can't  help  condoning  the  theft.  He  picks  up  a 
pebble  by  the  shore  and  polishes  it  into  a  jewel.  Occa- 
sionally, too,  he  writes  divine  lines,  and  knows  more 
about  the  grammar  of  the  stage  than  all  the  rest  of 
them  [the  dramatists]  put  together." 

Lester  Wallack  was  at  the  theatre  during  the  first 
production  of  "London  Assurance."  The  managers 
of  Covent  Garden  had  done  their  utmost  to  motmt 
the  piece  according  to  the  latest  improvements  in 
stage  art.  The  audience  saw  before  them  rare  exam- 
ples of  the  boxed-in  scene,  where  all  the  appoint- 
ments were  fitting  and  realistic.  The  stage-manager 
was  wellnigh  stunned  when  the  yoimg  dramatist 
asked  him  to  use  a  real  carpet  in  one  of  the  settings. 
Herein  may  be  noted  another  of  Boucicault's  claims 
to  influence;  more  than  any  other  playwright,  he 
depended  largely  upon  the  accessory  of  scenes  to 
reach  certain  effects.  He  used  fire  in  "The  Octoroon," 
and  water  in  "The  Colleen  Bawn" — those  external 
elements  affording  many  outlets  for  thrilling  situa- 
tions. The  Boucicault  drama  was  essentially  active. 
He  studied  his  audiences  carefully  to  note  in  what 
way  they  responded  to  a  given  climax — a  surprise 
which  he  may  have  taken  some  time  to  prepare  for 
them.  And  he  reached  the  conclusion,  after  years  of 

120 


experience,  that  an  actor's  ability  has  its  limited  "^DftC 

extent  of  power,  of  hold,  of  magnetism.  fifiranXtd 

"I  have  been  able,"  he  wrote,  "to  compare  results,  and 
find  that  when  an  audience  exceeds  a  certain  size,  it  is 
very  difficult  to  establish  in  it  perfectly  this  fusion  of 
minds.  .  .  .  Wherefore  I  am  led  to  believe  that  a  group  of 
more  than  two  thousand  persons  is  not  so  susceptible  to 
the  psychic  influences  exerted  by  artists,  as  a  group  of 
less  than  that  number.  There  is  a  limit  to  the  genius  of 
the  actor  as  regards  its  reach  over  his  audience ;  and 
no  auditorium  should  exceed  in  size  that  limit." 

His  first  success  was  rapidly  followed  by  other  plays. 
"The  Irish  Heiress"  was  presented  in  1842  and  "Old 
Heads  and  Young  Hearts"  in  1844.  Between  these 
came  "Alma  Mater,  or  a  Cure  for  a  Coquette"  (1842), 
which  he  was  accused  of  appropriating  from  an  un- 
acknowledged source ;  and  his  attempt  to  write  a  sen- 
timental comedy  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  bearing 
such  a  comprehensive  title  as  "Woman,"  failed  ut- 
terly. The  newspaper  comments  were  not  overcor- 
dial.  They  did  not  ascribe  to  his  second  nor  yet  to  his 
third  piece  the  merit  they  assigned  to  his  first.  "And 
yet,"  Boucicault  added  in  a  naively  impersonal  man- 
ner, "the  character  of  Jesse  Rural,  drawn  from  na- 
ture, seems  to  be  a  literary  portrait  of  more  merit 
than  any  of  the  heartless  types  of  the  older  and  more 
shallow  composition."  Thus,  in  1889,  Boucicault 
spoke  with  the  confidence  of  a  man  who,  having 
achieved,  can  afford  to  criticise  and  to  estimate  him- 
self. 

The  remarkable  fact  throughout  his  career,  however, 
was  that  no  matter  whether  good  or  bad,  original  or 
otherwise,  the  Boucicault  drama  was  eagerly  sought 
by  the  theatre  because  it  was  made  for  the  theatre. 
As  fast  as  the  dramatist  wrote,  just  so  fast  were 
his  manuscripts  given  to  companies  for  rehearsal. 
Boucicault  himself  declared  in  the  presence  of  Ste- 
phen Fiske  that  "he  was  a  lucky  bag  out  of  which 

121 


(^h^  some    managers    drew    fortunes    and    some    drew 

.  blanks."   Jeflferson   succeeded  in  putting  his  hand 

'bOUClCilUltjd  upon  "Rip" -he  did  more  than  that,  for  it  was  he 
who  put  Boucicault's  hand  in  the  way  of  doing  it; 
Frank  Mayo  secured  "The  Streets  of  New  York"; 
Chanfrau  reaped  benefit  from  "The  Octoroon"; 
and  Robson  and  Crane  were  fortunate  with  "Forbid- 
den Fruit." 

At  the  London  Princess  Theatre,  on  the  evening  of 
June  14,  1852,  Boucicault  presented  his  own  play, 
"The  Vampire,"  it  being  his  first  appearance  as  an 
actor  in  that  city.  During  this  year  he  met  Miss  Ag- 
nes Robertson,  who  was  supporting  Mrs.  Charles 
Kean. 

Let  us  stop  for  a  moment  and  gather  a  few  charac- 
teristics around  Dion  Boucicault.  One  grows  older 
with  the  years,  but  it  is  typical  of  Boucicault  that 
he  blossomed  all  of  a  sudden,  that  he  sUpped  early 
into  whatever  intellectual  maturity  he  was  to  possess ; 
and  thereafter  he  became  surer  in  his  powers,  with- 
out greatly  intensifying  his  insight  into  human 
nature.  Stephen  Fiske  called  him  an  enigma,  "a  gay, 
semi-fashionable,  semi-Bohemian"  fellow.  He  was 
impulsive,  nervous,  a  quick  worker,  and  as  ready  to 
flare  into  a  rage  as  he  was  to  exhibit  his  abundant 
Irish  humor. 

"I  knew  [him],"  writes  Clement  Scott,  "in  the  'Colleen 
Bawn'  days  at  the  Adelphi,  when  he  had  a  magnificent 
mansion  and  grounds  at  Old  Brompton.  ...  I  knew  him 
in  the  days  of  'The  Shaughraun'  at  the  same  theatre, 
and  I  met  him  constantly  at  the  tables  of  Edmund 
Yates  [et  als],  and  I  was  also  a  frequent  guest  at  his  own 
table  when  he  lived,  as  he  ever  did,  money  or  no 
money,  credit  or  no  credit,  'en  prince'  at  his  flat.  .  .  . 
Dion  was  a  born  'viveur,'  a  'gourmand'  and  'gourmet,' 
and  certainly  one  of  the  most  brilliant  conversation- 
alists it  has  ever  been  my  happy  fortune  to  meet." 

When  John   Coleman   used   to   see   Boucicault  at 
Charles  Reade's  in  later  years,  the  dramatist  had 
122 


Copyright  by  Aubrey  BoucicauU 


MRS.    DION    BOUCICAULT 


become  much  older  looking,  but  his  nature  was  un-    'flTTifr 

changed.  Therefore  the  picture  given  of  him  as  one        " 

of   the  guests   at  Reade's   table   is   not  misplaced    130UCtC3Ult)SS 

here,  for  he  could  sing  his  "The  Wearing  of  the 

Green"  with  as  much  spirit  at  sixty  as  he  could  at 

any  other  time.  Coleman  wrote : 

This  distinguished  actor  and  author  had  (so  he  him- 
self told  me)  left  England  under  a  cloud,  but  had  "cast 
his  nighted  colour  off"  in  America,  and  returned  to  tri- 
umph. When  we  first  met  he  was  living  "en  grand 
seigneur"  in  the  famous  mansion  at  Kensington  Gore, 
which  had  formerly  been  the  home  of  the  Countess  of 
Blessington.  He  was  then  making  a  fortune  one  mo- 
ment and  spending  it  the  next.  .  .  . 

His  accomplishments  were  many  and  varied.  He  knew 
something  about  everything,  and  what  he  didn't  know 
about  the  popular  drama  (which  to  some  extent  he  in- 
carnated in  himself)  wasn't  worth  knowing.  Although 
no  longer  young,  his  mind  was  alert  as  a  boy's,  and  I 
can  well  believe  what  Charles  Mathews,  Walter  Lacey, 
and  John  Brougham  often  told  me — that  in  his  juve- 
nalia  he  was  the  most  fascinating  young  scapegrace 
that  ever  baffled  or  bamboozled  a  bailiff. 
He  was  still  handsome.  His  head,  though  perfectly 
bald,  was  shaped  like  the  dome  of  a  temple,  and  was 
superbly,  I  may  say,  Shakespearianly  beautiful.  His  face 
was  a  perfect  oval,  his  eyes  brilliant,  his  figure  elegant. 
Old  stagers  were  wont  to  say  he  was  a  mere  replica  of 
Tyrone  Power^the  famous  comedian  who  perished  in 
the  wreck  of  the  ill-fated  "President." 

Such  is  a  sketch  of  the  man  who  married  Miss  Rob- 
ertson and  set  sail  with  her  for  America  in  1853.  He 
was  headstrong  and  reckless,  as  is  shown  by  every 
vital  circumstance  connected  with  his  life.  He  was 
gifted  with  a  quick  eye  and  a  ready  expression.  So  it 
was  that  "on  the  spur  of  the  moment,"  as  he  says  in 
that  preface  to  "London  Assurance"  which  he  ad- 
dressed to  Charles  Kemble,  "I  completed  this  work 
in  thirty  days.  I  had  no  time  to  revise  or  correct ;  the 
ink  was  scarcely  dry  before  it  was  in  the  theatre  and 
accepted."  Such  rapidity  is  an  unwise  and  unsafe 

123 


'flr][i^  recipe  to  give  any  dramatist,  but  it  would  seem  that 

^      .  all  theatrically  successful  plays  have  been  quickly 

'BOUClCaUltjS  constructed.  This  was  the  case  with  "The  Lady  of 
Lyons,"  penned  by  Bulwer  to  cover  a  former  failure, 
as  it  was  with  "Camille,"  written  because  Dumas 
"fils,"  as  well  as  Dumas  "pere,"  disapproved  of  a 
scenario  made  from  the  former's  novel  by  some  un- 
known and  melodramatic  pla)rwright. 
Boucicault  combined,  therefore,  the  rapid  inventive 
gift  with  the  aptness  of  the  producer.  He  was  strictly 
a  writer  for  the  stage,  and  he  had  the  foresight  to 
study  his  wife's  capabilities  as  well  as  his  own.  He 
realized  the  limitations  of  each,  and  he  wrote  parts 
accordingly.  Being  Irish,  he  possessed  the  moonlight 
sentiment  which,  in  such  plays,  always  shines  upon 
a  denied  patrimony ;  because  he  was  Irish,  he  had  the 
right  to  be  picturesque  in  a  "mavoumeen"  way.  His 
whole  dramatic  idea  never  went  beyond  the  confines 
of  the  stage. 

Even  in  acting — and  he  lectured  many  times  upon 
the  art — he  averred  that  it  "could  be  taught  only  on 
the  stage,  as  swimming  can  only  be  taught  in  the 
water,  and  riding  on  horseback.  AH  chamber  tuition 
is  worthless.  Elocution  and  declamation  are  the  last, 
not  the  first,  lessons  a  young  actress  or  actor  should 
learn.  ...  I  deny  that  [the  art]  .  .  .  can  be  taught  and 
practised  on  a  hearth-rug.  I  deny  that  Antony  can 
address  an  imaginary  populace,  that  Romeo  can 
make  love  to  an  absent  Juliet." 
Wise  at  one  moment  and  unwise  at  the  next,  Bouci- 
cault could  have  been  a  greater  man  had  he  not  been 
so  successful  when  he  was  successful.  The  very  fact 
that  he  could  defy  failure  with  immediate  success 
m.ade  him  obstinately  opinionated,  and  though  his 
advice  was  at  most  times  practical  and  of  the  very 
best,  what  he  told  one  day  at  rehearsal  might  the 
next  day  be  reversed.  There  was  great  instability 
in  the  character  of  Dion  Boucicault. 
124 


His  first  act  when  he  reached  America  was  accom-   '^Dftt 
plished  in  the  face  of  contrary  advice  from  friends,    '^ttritrr<rafrTf-rf 
He  kept  his  marriage  a  secret,  appearing  in  public    i^OuClCaUltp 
v/ith  his  wife,  who  was  cast  as  Miss  Agnes  Robertson 
on  the  playbills.  Soon  he  recognized  the  error  of  his 
ways ;  he  found  that  his  wife  did  not  make  any  more 
popular  impression  than  she  would  have  done  had 
she  not  used  her  maiden  name.  So,  one  evening  in 
Boston,  Mr.  Boucicault  came  upon  the  stage  and  an- 
nounced that  he  was  the  husband  of  Miss  Robertson, 
and  idle  talk  was  set  at  rest. 

Mrs.  Dion  Boucicault,  of  Scotch  descent,  was  bom 
in  Edinburgh,  December  25,  1833.  She  was  only 
eleven  years  of  age  when  she  began  to  sing  in  public, 
and  during  185 1  she  joined  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles 
Kean's  company,  playing  Nerissa  in  their  produc- 
tion of  "The  Merchant  of  Venice" ;  so,  too,  she  filled 
many  juvenile  roles.  She  was  a  ward  of  the  Keans, 
and  her  marriage  with  Boucicault  was  not  ap- 
proved by  them;  indeed,  so  strenuously  was  it  op- 
posed, some  think,  that  the  young  couple  went  off 
and  settled  the  question  for  themselves.  They  came 
to  New  York  via  Montreal,  and  on  October  22,  1853, 
Mrs.  Boucicault  appeared  as  Maria  in  "The  Young 
Actress."  Mr.  Boucicault's  American  debut  was 
made  at  the  New  York  Broadway  Theatre  on  Novem- 
ber 10,  1854,  when  he  played  Sir  Charles  Coldstream 
in  "Used  Up."  The  same  year,  Joseph  Jefferson  was 
managing  John  T.  Ford's  theatre  in  Richmond,  Vir- 
ginia, and  he  engaged  Edwin  Forrest  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Boucicault  to  come  to  him. 
Professionally,  the  success  of  these  last  was  closely 
associated.  Despite  the  fact  that  she  was  constantly 
appearing  in  Philadelphia,  and  that  she  toured  also 
throughout  the  United  States,  it  was  in  New  York 
that  Agnes  Robertson  won  her  warmest  favors.  And 
if  there  had  been  any  opposition  on  the  part  of  the 
Keans  to  her  husband,  it  had  subsided  sufficiently  by 

125 


^MC  1855  for  Boucicault  to  write  a  drama,  "Louis  XI,'* 

IBDlICtCdlllt^  ^"  which  Charles  Kean  made  a  success.  Previously  a 
similar  play  had  been  conceived  by  W.  R.  Markwell, 
but  the  Boucicault  drama  was  the  one  afterward 
used  by  Edwin  Booth  and  Henry  Irving;  even  the 
dramatist  himself  essayed  to  play  the  part  of  the 
French  monarch. 

Boucicault,  referring  to  Irving  in  1883,  spoke  truly: 
"He  resembles  absinthe.  Some  people  make  faces  at 
his  acting,  at  first,  but  the  taste  grows  upon  you  and 
at  last  becomes  an  eager  appetite."  Irving  had,  when 
almost  unknown,  appeared  in  Boucicault's  "Hunted 
Down." 

Critics  were  warm  in  their  praise  of  Mrs.  Bouci- 
cault's Jessie  Brown,  when  her  husband's  drama, 
"The  ReUef  of  Lucknow,"  was  given  at  Wallack's 
Theatre  on  February  22,  1858;  they  applauded  her 
Dot  in  a  version  of  "The  Cricket  on  the  Hearth," 
with  Jefferson  as  Caleb  Plummer.  The  performance 
occurred  at  the  Winter  Garden  on  September  4, 
1859.  It  is  a  curious  instance  of  the  indirect  way  in 
which  Boucicault  reached  out  and  took  his  material, 
that  he  based  his  play  on  a  dramatization  of  the 
Dickens  book,  which  had  been  done  by  two  French- 
men, and  called  by  them  "Le  Marchand  d'En- 
fants";  he  was  not  aware  of  the  story's  existence 
until  afterward. 

There  seems  at  a  certain  period  of  stage  history  to 
have  been  a  perfect  influx  of  Dickens  dramatiza- 
tions, even  as  Scott,  during  an  earlier  era,  was  tum- 
bled promiscuously  on  the  boards.  The  novelists  were 
rich  in  their  characterizations,  which  were  all  hu- 
man, and  at  the  same  time  placed  in  situations  that 
appealed  to  the  dramatic  instinct  of  Boucicault.  He 
soon  had  made  a  play  from  "Nicholas  Nickleby," 
and  in  November,  1859,  when  Jefferson  created  so 
successfully  the  role  of  Newman  Noggs,  Mrs.  Bouci- 
cault's Smike  was  accounted  "terribly  tearful,"  the 
126 


audience  becoming  enthusiastic  over  the  pathos  of    '^ht 
the  picture.  With  what  the  papers  described  as  the    ^.^         . 
prettiest  of  ballad  voices,  which  gave  forth  a  serene     >B3OUClCBUlt0 
melody,  vinniffled  by  artificial  trills,  she  again  made 
an  impression  as  Jeanie  Deans  in  a  dramatization 
of  "The  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian,"  presented  at  Laura 
Keene's  Theatre   on  January  9,  i860.  She  was  also 
the  original  Zoe  in  "The  Octoroon"  (December  5, 
1859),  and  Eily  O'Connor  in  "The  Colleen  Bawn" 
(March  29,  i860). 

This  latter  piece  is  theatric  and  devoid  of  true  psy- 
chology, yet  it  has  the  typical  heart-interest.  The 
ideas  of  cast,  the  disappointed  but  faithful  lover,  the 
villanous  solicitor,  the  suspicions  and  misrepresen- 
tations that  are  as  a  pebbly  bed  to  the  course  of  true 
love — these  all  lack  intellectual  consistency,  but  to 
the  eye  they  lend  color,  and  to  the  illusion  they  add 
excitement  and  stimulation.  Though  this  play  is 
regarded  as  a  type  of  the  famous  Irish  dramas 
written  by  Boucicault,  it  was  not  original  in  plot ;  it 
was  fotmded  upon  a  novel  by  Gerald  Griflan,  called 
"The  CoUegians." 

It  followed  his  "Vanity  Fair,"  which,  produced  by 
Laura  Keene,  proved  to  be  a  failure ;  the  actress  had 
thereupon  turned  in  distress  to  the  dramatist,  "What  *: 

have  you  to  put  in  its  place?"  she  had  queried.  :; 

"Nothing,"  came  the  reply.   But  that  night  Bouci-  - ' 

cault  stopped  at  a  bookstore  and  purchased  the 
above-mentioned  volume,  which  he  read  from  cover 
to  cover  through  the  early  morning.  Then  he  wrote 
in  all  haste  to  Miss  Keene : 

My  dear  Laura :  I  have  it !  I  send  you  seven  steel  en- 
gravings of  scenes  around  Killarney.  Get  your  scene- 
painter  to  work  on  them  at  once.  I  also  send  a  book 
of  Irish  melodies,  with  those  marked  I  desire  Baker  to 
score  for  the  orchestra.  I  shall  read  act  one  of  my  new 
Irish  play  on  Friday ;  we  rehearse  that  while  I  am  writ- 
ing the  second,  which  will  be  ready  on  Monday;  and  we 

127 


'(2[^h0  rehearse  the  second  while  I  am  doing  the  third.  We  can 

,  „  get  the  play  out  within  a  fortnight. 

TBOUCtCaUltg  Yours,  D.  B. 

Writing,  adapting,  and  translating  four  hundred 
plays  in  about  forty-nine  years,  Boucicault  was  of 
necessity  a  rapid  worker,  and  since  a  large  number  of 
these  pieces  found  quick  production,  he  and  his  wife 
did  not  have  far  to  look  in  order  to  procure  a  wide 
range  of  roles.  But  his  characters  made  small  de- 
mand upon  subtlety.  Active  romance  and  feeling,  cut 
after  the  same  pattern,  may,  under  all  external  con- 
ditions, be  depicted  by  the  same  methods.  Boucicault, 
despite  his  cosmopolitanism,  was  at  the  same  time  an 
Irishman,  and  his  sentiment  of  locality  was  always 
his  strong  stand-by.  There  was  a  reminiscent  touch 
to  every  phase  of  his  work — both  his  morality  and  his 
immorality  were  tinged  with  the  sentiment  and  pa- 
thos of  external  influence.  His  characters  had  little 
internal  communings. 

From  i860  to  1872  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boucicault  remained 
in  England,  and  on  their  return  to  America  they  re- 
peated, at  Booth's  Theatre  (September,  1872),  some 
of  their  former  successes.  In  1879  Mrs.  Boucicault 
retired  from  the  stage. 

During  this  time  the  playwright  was  unceasing  in  his 
work,  and  plays  rolled  from  his  pen  in  rapid  succes- 
sion. This  was  not  enough  for  an  active  temperament ; 
Boucicault  entered  the  field  of  theatrical  manage- 
ment. As  early  as  1859  he  had  formed  a  partnership 
with  William  Stuart,  and  the  two  had  presented  Jef- 
ferson at  the  Winter  Garden  in  repertoire ;  then  in 
1862  Astley's  Circus  in  London  was  renamed  the 
Westminster,  and  here  Boucicault  produced  under 
his  own  business  direction  "The  Heart  of  Mid-Lo- 
thian" (January  26,  1863). 

There  is  an  interesting  point  connected  with  this 
experiment.  The  theatre  was  situated  in  a  part  of  the 
128 


town  not  frequented  by  the  upper  class;  to  reach  the    ^t^t 
place,  Westminster  Bridge  had  to  be  crossed.  It  is    '^t^fiftcfCAUlt^ 
always  the  case  that  when  a  house  becomes  associ-    '^*'l**'^*^ '***'" 
ated  in  the  public  mind  with  a  certain  "  genre  "  of 
drama,  and  when  it  has  created  its  own  class  of  au- 
dience, it  is  difficult  to  alter  the  impression  by  sub- 
stituting   another    type    of    play  and  attracting   a 
different  class.  But  this  is  what  the  Boucicault  cam- 
paign attempted,  and  by  the  time  "Mazeppa"  was 
announced  on  the  bills,  the  fashionable  world  was 
crossing  the  bridge  to  see  it. 

Boucicault  aimed  to  win  the  popular  taste;  he  was 
often  heard  to  say  that  he  preferred  fifty-cent  audi- 
ences to  any  other,  since  they  came  for  legitimate 
amusement,  and  did  not  look  upon  the  theatre  as  a 
kind  of  interlude — an  indispensable  accessory  to  din- 
ner-parties. Nor  did  he  hesitate  to  proclaim,  whenever 
opportunity  presented  itself,  that  the  drama  was 
being  kept  decent  only  through  the  sincerity  of  this 
fifty-cent  body. 

Under  his  own  direction,  Boucicault  presented  "The 
Colleen  Bawn"  at  Drury  Lane  (circa  1862),  after  he 
had  severed  his  connection  with  Benjamin  Webster, 
who  owned  the  Adelphi.  The  misunderstanding 
which  existed  between  these  two  very  nearly  pre- 
vented the  first  production  of  "Rip  Van  Winkle" 
which  Jefferson  was  to  give  later.  The  version  of 
the  play  had  just  been  completed  by  Boucicault  and 
handed  over  to  the  actor  v/ho  was  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Webster.  Boucicault  and  he,  on  account  of 
their  differences,  were  not  on  speaking  terms,  and 
so  when  Jefferson  assembled  his  company  to  read 
them  the  manuscript  of  the  play  neither  the  author 
nor  the  manager  was  present.  However,  the  time 
arrived  v/hen  the  company  was  more  than  "letter 
perfect"  and  Jefferson  finally  prevailed  upon  Bouci- 
cault to  attend  a  rehearsal.  As  soon  as  the  pla)rwright 
entered   the   theatre,   however,   his  old   grievances 

129 


"^r^C  against  Webster  welled  up,  and  he  overflowed  in 

-•^-j^lY^I-i|.-j  abuse  of  the  owner  of  the  Adelphi.  "Webster's  man- 
iDUUvlvaUiip  agement  cannot  compare  with  mine,"  cried  Bouci- 
cault,  tapping  his  cane  on  the  floor.  He  was  an- 
noyed by  some  little  discrepancies  in  stage  detail. 
As  was  natural,  the  company  became  incensed  at 
this  breach  of  etiquette,  and  from  behind  the  cur- 
tain of  one  of  the  boxes,  where  Webster  lay  con- 
cealed, undefined  sputterings  of  rage  could  be  heard. 
The  crusty  old  manager  left  the  house,  and  wrote 
Jefferson  post-haste  that  under  no  condition  could 
he  allow  one  of  Boucicault's  dramas  to  be  acted  at 
his  theatre ;  that  only  if  Jefferson  saw  fit  to  substitute 
one  of  the  many  other  versions  of  the  legend  could 
"Rip  Van  Winkle"  be  mounted  on  the  boards  of  the 
Adelphi  at  the  time  stipulated.  It  is  testimony  to 
Jefferson's  good-will  and  diplomacy  that  the  matter 
was  sufficiently  overlooked  to  allow  the  performance 
to  proceed  on  the  evening  originally  set. 
Covent  Garden  Theatre  was  once  the  scene  of  Bou- 
cicault's extravagancies  (1872).  In  partnership  with 
Lord  Londesborough,  who  rented  the  house,  he  pre- 
pared a  spectacular,  "Babil  and  Bijou,"  into  which 
money  was  thoughtlessly  poured.  The  production  was 
not  a  great  financial  success,  though  some  regarded 
it  with  favor  artistically.  Special  musical  features 
were  prepared,  and  the  choruses  outrivalled  any- 
thing of  the  kind  ever  heard  before.  Boucicault  knew 
well  how  to  spend  other  people's  money — and  he  was 
equally  as  lavish  with  his  own  when  he  had  it. 
In  considering  these  many  plays,  it  must  not  be  for- 
gotten that  two  dates  of  production  should  always  be 
associated  with  each,  since  the  dramatist  was  equally 
popular  in  America  and  Great  Britain,  For  that  rea- 
son, his  views  upon  the  interrelation  of  English  and 
American  dramas  were  regarded  significantly  and 
were  given  close  attention  at  the  time  they  were 
uttered.  He  had  cause  to  think  conditions  fair! 

130 


p%^si^*9^»^ ■r^kfi*^ ^ «*•  «*?  ^*y 4^  *65  4a^*\i 


»^  ;t»'^«*.i«>  i*»'i»^^;i^^rL?^t*^SL^^ 


•>  *>?A^ !*»/*» i*»  ' 


i^  ?«*^  <*?:  4*?  <»•  «*•    ♦•^  •  «. 


THE   BOUCICAULT    POSTER 

Very  sciirce  and  much  coveted  by  collectors, 
border.    2.\  x  17  inches 


While  in  England  during  that  period  between  i860    '^l^t 
and  1872,  Boucicault  was  intimately  associated  with    /^;2rtiir<rilitlf'<< 
Charles  Reade,  the  novelist,  who  was  as  interested  in    iOUUClvaUU? 
the  drama  as  was   Charles  Dickens,  his   popular 
contemporary.  But  Reade  occupied  a  unique  posi- 
tion in  respect  to  his  own  books ;  he  was  dramatizer 
as  well  as  writer. 

In  collaboration  with  Boucicault,  he  prepared  a 
drama  in  1867  from  "Foul  Play";  it  was  not  only 
a  failure,  but  it  resulted  in  another  accusation  of 
plagiarism  which  followed  close  upon  its  presenta- 
tion. This  attack  Reade  wholly  denounced,  and  it  is 
clearly  seen  that  the  public  suspicion  fell,  not  upon  the 
novelist,  but  upon  the  playwright.  The  matter  is  fully 
considered  in  "Readiana,"  and  excerpts  produced 
from  "Le  Porte-Feuille  Rouge,"  which  was  the  bone 
of  contention — the  French  model  which  was  more 
than  a  "model."  Afterward,  Reade  made  another 
dramatic  version  imder  the  title  "The  Scuttled 
Ship." 

When  that  novelist  was  dramatizing  "It's  Never  Too 
Late  to  Mend,"  he  let  Boucicault  have  the  manu- 
script; a  short  while  passed  and  a  letter  arrived 
from  Dublin : 

MY  DEAR  Reade  :  I  have  read  your  drama  "N.  T.  L.  T. 
M."     There  is  in  it  a  very  effective  piece,  but,  like  the 
nut  within  both  husk  and  shell,  it  wants  freedom, 
ist.  It  will  act  five  hours  as  it  stands. 
2d.  There  are  scenes  which  injure  dramatically  others 
which  follow. 

3d.  There  are  two  characters  you  are  fond  of  (I  sup- 
pose), but  can  never  be  played.  I  mean  Jacky  and  the 
Jew. 

4th.  The  dialogue  wants  weeding.  It  is  more  in  weight 
than  actors — as  they  breed  them  now — can  carry. 
Total.  If  you  want  to  make  a  success  with  this  drama, 
you  must  consent  to  a  depleting  process  to  which  Shy- 
lock's  single  pound  of  flesh  must  be  a  mild  transaction. 
Have  you  the  courage  to  undergo  the  operation?  I  am 
afraid  you  have  not. 

Ever  yours,  DION  BOUCICAULT. 

131 


'^Jl^  Here  was  a  man  who  reached  his  dramatic  theories 

,  through  practical  experience.  His  character  was  such 

lDOUCtCdUlt0  as  to  ignore  advice  unless  it  was  the  kind  he  himself 
most  desired ;  his  success  inculcated  within  him  an 
assurance  which  reacted  upon  him  and  made  him  con- 
ceited. His  productions  are  hastily  built,  but  they  are 
examples  of  stage  ingenuity,  and  out  of  them  he 
hewed  those  principles  which  it  profits  every  play- 
wright to  follow.  Let  us  repeat:  Boucicault  grew  in 
his  mechanism,  but  the  limits  of  his  intellect  kept 
him  from  becoming  great.  He  wrote  to  please,  he 
wrote  for  effect — two  essential  characteristics  of  the 
stagecraftsman.  But  he  denied  the  accusation  that 
he  was  ignorant  of  the  history  of  the  drama  and  its 
established  rules  of  dramatic  composition.  He  under- 
stood his  craft  and  the  craft  of  his  predecessors,  and 
his  essay  on  "The  Art  of  Dramatic  Composition"  is 
worthy  of  minute  analysis.  As  a  reader  of  plays  he 
was  quick  to  grasp  the  essential  construction.  He 
wrote : 

The  essence  of  a  rule  is  its  necessity :  it  must  be  reason- 
able and  always  in  the  right.  The  unities  of  time  and 
place  do  not  seem  to  be  reasonable  and  have  been 
violated  with  impunity,  therefore  are  not  always  in  the 
right.  The  liberty  of  imagination  should  not  be  sacri- 
ficed to  arbitrary  restrictions  and  traditions  that  lead  to 
dulness  and  formality.  Art  is  not  a  church;  it  is  the 
philosophy  of  pleasure. 

Once  back  in  America,  Boucicault  dominated  things 
theatrical;  his  name  filled  dramatic  records;  his 
opinions  strongly  influenced  the  theatre-going  public. 
He  lectured  on  the  art  of  acting — a  practical  actor 
himself;  he  criticised  managerial  systems — him- 
self a  practical  manager.  He  preached  how  plays 
should  be  v/ritten — a  practical  playwright ;  and  when 
one  of  his  own  pieces  was  put  on,  he  saw  to  it  that 
each  person  in  the  cast  v/as  a  part  of  the  picture.  He 
wrote,   adapted,  translated  —  v/hatever   word  you 

132 


care  to  apply — up  to  the  vary  day  of  his  death  he  did  'flThr 
not  cease  to  contrive  and  to  produce.  ^ 

Blinded  by  an  unaccountable  tide  of  feeling,  and  re-  OBOUClCSUltjcJ 
gardless,  as  was  his  nature  ever  to  be,  of  every  one 
and  everything,  the  impulsive  Boucicault,  in  1883, 
married  Louise  T?homdyke,  a  member  of  his  company. 
His  second  wife  was  granted  a  separation  in  1888. 
Thereafter,  though  he  continued  to  compose  persist- 
ently, the  dramatist's  powers  waned.  He  became 
director  of  A.  M.  Palmer's  School  of  Acting  (Madison 
Square  Theatre)  and  all  the  time  he  was  made  to  feel 
that  favor  was  sUpping  from  him.  Public  opinion 
weighed  him  down  more  than  he  had  anticipated, 
and  in  consequence  his  health  rapidly  failed.  He 
died  in  New  York  on  September  18,  1890,  with  only  a 
few  friends  to  render  service  to  the  dead. 
The  summary, of  Dion  Boucicault's  life  is  a  peculiar 
one ;  he  was  more  impulsive  than  he  was  thoughtful, 
yet  he  was  thoughtful ;  he  was  quicker  to  see  effect  in 
others  and  to  assimilate  it  than  he  was  original,  yet 
no  man  could  lay  claim  to  more  practical  originality ; 
he  was  extravagant  and  headstrong,  yet  he  was  kind 
of  heart.  He  had  a  fund  of  knowledge  and  his  dra- 
matic instinct  made  use  of  it. 

"He  was,"  said  the  loyal  Agnes  Robertson,  "excessively 
fond  of  reading,  and  he  was  one  of  the  best-informed 
men  of  his  time.  He  was  very  partial  in  his  tastes  to 
history.  John  Stuart  Mill  was  his  favorite  philosopher; 
Goldsmith  he  preferred  to  all  the  poets,  but  he  enjoyed 
Keats  and  Shelley  also.  He  was  well  versed  in  ths 
Bible,  and  I  have  often  heard  him  in  discussion  with  hio 
brother  William  regarding  the  interpretation  of  texts 
which  have  been  battled  over  by  the  theologians 
through  the  ages." 

Boucicault  was  quick  to  lay  hold  of  the  events  of  the 
moment  and  to  incorporate  them  in  his  dramas;  in- 
stance "The  Relief  of  Lucknow"  and  "The  Octo- 
roon." In  its  way  the  latter  was  quite  as  effective, 

133 


'^ht  controversially,  as  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  Yet  Bouci- 

-  -         _         cault  only  made  use  of  American  topics  as  stage  ac- 

OOUCtCaUltp  cessories.  Even  as  a  manager  tries  to  find  out  what 
the  public  likes  to  see,  as  opposed  to  what  the  pubUc 
likes  to  think,  and  then  employs  a  dramatist  to  make 
him  a  play  along  the  Unes  of  least  resistance,  so  Bou- 
cicault  saw  what  was  wanted,  and  fitted  his  idea  to 
the  picture. 

Though  closely  identified  with  the  history  of  Ameri- 
can drama,  he  was  himself  an  Irishman,  both  in 
sentiment  and  in  appearance.  His  sense  of  humor 
shone  genial  in  his  plays,  and  as  to  the  man  person- 
ally, he  was  jovial  in  company  and  a  moving  spirit. 
His  banter  was  pleasant  and  not  in  the  least  offen- 
sive, and  he  would  say  things  in  a  broad  brogue  that 
came  naturally.  He  knew  well  how  to  use  the  blarney 
stone,  for  he  was  ever  ready  to  be  agreeable. 
As  an  Irishman,  Boucicault  was  willing  to  stand  by 
his  remarks.  A  play  of  his  was  once  staged  called 
"Suil-a-Mor,"  and  it  brought  down  upon  him  the 
wrath  of  the  English  because  of  certain  direct  utter- 
ances expressed  against  the  home  government.  A  hue 
and  cry  was  quickly  raised  and  Boucicault  was  asked 
to  eliminate  the  passages.  "No,"  said  the  dramatist, 
"I  mean  just  exactly  what  the  lines  convey.  Rather 
than  sacrifice  my  opinion,  I'll  withdraw  the  piece." 
This  he  did  not  have  to  do. 

But  as  an  Irishman  Boucicault  could  not  see  his 
country  in  perspective  with  the  student's  eye.  Though 
he  wrote  papers  on  the  social  conditions — on  the 
class  struggles  that  were  existing  there,  his  opinions 
were  based  upon  a  personal  feeling  rather  than  upon 
an  actual  realization  of  the  social  problem.  His  argu- 
ments were  often  sweeping  for  a  man  to  make,  espe- 
cially one  who  in  the  public  eye  was  to  be  subjected 
to  close  attention  and  close  scrutiny  by  students. 
While  his  interest  in  the  v/elfare  of  Ireland  resulted 
in  pubUc  utterances  and  in  occasional  pamphlets 

134 


and  references  to  be  found  in  his  plays,  Boucicault    fjflifr 
was  too  much  absorbed  in  his  theatrical  interests  to     ^9*^ 
devote  any  definite  time  to  the  subject.  It  was  once    ^OUCtCEUltjcJ 
suggested  that  he  strongly  desired  a  seat  in  Parlia- 
ment; then  rumor  actually  said  that  an  Irish  con- 
stituency had  been  offered  him;  but  if  such  was 
the  case,  the  playwright  was  wise  enough  never  to 
consider  it.  "By  nature,"  he  said,  "I  am  intended  for 
the  drama,  and  for  nothing  else." 
At  the  time  of  his  death  Boucicault  was  at  work  upon 
a  dramatization  of  Bret  Harte's  "The  Luck  of  Roar- 
ing Camp."   His  biographers  will  have  a  difficult 
task  in  tabulating  his  activity,  yet  no  account  would 
be  considered  complete  that  did  not  enimierate  some 
of  the  best  known  of  his  plays.  "Arrah-na-Pogue," 
produced  in  London  on  March  22,  1865,  belongs 
to  the  "Shaughraim"  class;  it  was  translated  into 
French  under  the  title  of  "Jean  la  Poste,  or  Les 
Noces  Irlandaises"  and  played  in  Paris  (1866)  for 
one  hundred  and  forty  nights. 

In  his  own  play,  "Kerry"  (1871),  Boucicault  acted 
"as  if  inspired  by  the  genius  of  all  that  is  great  in 
Irish  poetry,  history,  and  romance."  The  following 
year  he  made  a  dramatization  of  Bulwer's  "Night 
and  Morning,"  and  then  came  "Led  Astray"  (1873). 
"Robert  Emmet"  (1884)  is  still  familiar.  They  all  had 
their  runs,  some  failures,  others  successes — every 
one  theatrical.  There  are  few  of  us  to-day  who  will 
have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  "Belle  Lamar," 
"Faust  and  Marguerite,"  "Love  in  a  Maze,"  "Hunted 
Down,"  or  "Formosa" ;  occasionally  there  are  reviv- 
als of  "London  Assurance"  and  "The  Corsican 
Brothers."  But  when  you  have  seen  one,  you  have 
found  the  key  to  them  all.  Boucicault  never  Uked  the 
criticism  of  sameness  which  was  so  often  applied  to 
his  work. 

Still  the  relationships  are  very  close,  for  organically 
these  pieces  move  with  the  same  rhythm,  they  flour- 

135 


Cl)c 


ish  upon  the  san:e  humor  and  pathos,  they  commit 
the  same  ravishing  absurdities;  one  feels  like  ex- 
^^OUriCaUltjS  claiming  with  George  William  Curtis,  "Ah,  had  the 
painter  only  taken  more  pains!"  The  same  writer 
said :  "The  charm  and  the  defence  of  the  'Shaugh- 
raun'  are  those  of  *Rip  Van  Winkle' — they  are  its 
humanizing  character  and  influence.  .  .  .  What  is 
the  'Shaughraun'  but  a  jocund  Irish  *Rip,*  or  *Rip' 
but  a  'Shaughraun'  of  the  Catskills?" 
We  are  often  able  to  judge  of  a  man  by  the  estimate 
he  makes  of  himself.  Boucicault  was  not  one  to  hide 
his  talents  under  a  bushel;  he  knew  when  to  pro- 
claim them  from  the  housetops.  Perhaps  he  was 
thrust  into  his  rapid  gait  of  work  by  the  existing 
conditions  of  the  dramatic  copyright  law  which, 
in  America  up  to  1856,  did  nothing  to  protect  the 
author.  It  was  in  1856  that  Congress  decided  the 
author  did  have  the  rights  to  his  own  brain  efforts, 
the  right  of  production  and  the  right  to  grant  per- 
mission, without  which  it  would  be  a  legal  offence  to 
produce  his  plays.  In  France  Boucicault  had  seen  the 
dramatists  prospering  with  a  royalty  system;  for 
years  he  too  fought  for  the  same  opportunity,  and 
only  succeeded  finally  by  openly  defying  the  Dramatic 
Authors'  Society  in  England,  and  the  managers  in 
the  United  States. 

This  he  proceeded  to  do  circa  i860  by  sending  forth 
more  than  one  company  in  his  own  plays,  and  taking 
a  proper  commission  for  himself  from  the  proceeds 
of  each  performance. 

Boucicault,  indeed,  by  these  travelling  companies 
of  his,  was  instrumental  in  hastening  the  decline 
of  the  old  stock  system.  In  1866  he  preached  his 
ideas  to  the  French,  who  greeted  them  favor- 
ably, and  by  1872  the  United  States  had  accepted 
them. 

The  royalty  system  was  insisted  upon  by  Boucicault 
after  dire  experience.  Writing  in  1879  he  said : 

136 


To  the  commercial  manager  we  owe  the  introduction  '^fjfr 
of  the  burlesque,  opera-bouffe,  and  the  reign  of  buf-  ^-^^'^ 
foonery.  We  owe  to  him  also  the  deluge  of  French  ^fillCfCfltllt^ 
plays  that  set  in  with  1842,  and  swamped  the  English  •*t-»*'***'»*'******'P 
drama  of  that  period.  For  example :  the  usual  price  re- 
ceived by  Sheridan  Knowles,  Bulwer,  and  Talfourd  at 
the  time  for  their  plays  was  £500.  I  was  a  beginner  in 
1841,  and  received  for  my  comedy,  "London  Assur- 
ance," ;£300.  For  that  amount  the  manager  bought  the 
privilege  of  playing  the  work  for  his  season.  Three 
years  later  I  offered  a  new  play  to  a  principal  London 
theatre.  The  manager  offered  me  ;^ioo  for  it.  In  reply  to 
my  objection  to  the  smallness  of  the  sum,  he  remarked  : 
"I  can  go  to  Paris  and  select  a  first-class  comedy;  hav- 
ing seen  it  performed,  I  feel  certain  of  its  effect.  To  get 
this  comedy  translated  will  cost  me  £25.  Why  should  I 
give  you  £300  or  £500  for  your  comedy,  the  success 
of  which  I  cannot  feel  so  assured?"  The  argument  was 
unanswerable,  and  the  result  inevitable.  I  sold  a  work 
for  ;£ioo  that  took  me  six  months'  hard  work  to 
compose,  and  accepted  a  commission  to  translate  three 
French  plays  at  £50  apiece.  This  work  afforded  me 
child's  play  for  a  fortnight.  Thus  the  English  dramatist 
was  obliged  either  to  relinquish  the  stage  altogether  or 
to  become  a  French  copyist. 

"The  Shaughraun"  was  played  in  London  on  Novem- 
ber 6,  1875,  having  been  first  produced  at  Wallack's 
Theatre  on  November  14,  1874,  The  ease  with  which 
Boucicault  could  shift  his  point  of  view  is  here  ex- 
hibited. Lester  Wallack  had  commissioned  him  to 
write  a  play,  but  before  it  was  completed  another 
drama,  more  suited  to  his  talents,  had  been  pur- 
chased. So  he  went  to  Boucicault,  who  had  advanced 
some  way  in  the  mapping  out  of  "Boyne  Water,"  and 
laid  the  case  before  him.  "I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do," 
suggested  the  ever  -  ingenious  playwright,  "I'll 
change  the  period  of  the  piece,  and,  taking  certain 
scenes  from  this  manuscript,  I'll  build  up  a  wholly 
different  drama."  The  evolution  resulted  in  the  char- 
acter of  Con,  lovable,  poetic,  and  picturesque. 
Boucicault  was  never  to  be  outdone,  whatever  the 
circumstances.  So  intent  was  he  during  the  rehearsals 

137 


'^bf  of  "The  Shaughraun"  regarding  the  other  characters 

'^tlftf  tr^ra-f  f  If  <s  ^^  *^®  ^^^*  *^^*  °°  *^^  opening  night,  when  he  reached 
iDOUClCaUit?  the  theatre,  he  suddenly  realized  that  he  had  wholly 
forgotten  to  pick  himself  out  a  costume  for  Con.  So 
he  rushed  to  the  property  room,  and  on  with  an 
old  coat  that  had  done  service  for  Tony  Lumpkin, 
and  on  with  an  old  cap  belonging  to  that  same  in- 
dividual! Grabbing  an  odd  pair  of  boots  from  a 
discarded  chest — and  he  was  ready!  But  disasters 
came  thick  and  fast  on  this  occasion.  The  second 
act  called  for  a  moon ;  just  as  the  scene  was  about 
to  begin,  the  stage  orb  exploded,  and  when  the  curtain 
rose  the  audience  was  amazed  to  find  a  black  hole 
where  the  moon  should  have  been.  A  burst  of  laugh- 
ter showed  their  further  appreciation  of  a  slip  in 
stage-management,  for  silver  ripples  quivered  on  the 
water — a  case  of  moonlight  with  the  moon  left  out. 
In  retrospect  Boucicault  once  said : 

When  "The  O'Dowd"  was  written  ten  years  ago  [1872], 
I  perceived  that  the  character  belonged  rather  to  high 
comedy-drama  than  to  melodrama.  It  occurred  to  me 
also  that  the  Irish  character  had  been  associated  with 
plays  of  a  low  sensational  class,  and  that  an  effort  to 
raise  the  whole  edifice  of  our  national  drama  might  be 
made.  In  this  spirit,  "Suil-a-Mor"  was  written  as  a 
pure  sentimental  comedy,  with  a  strong  emotion  for  a 
spinal  column.  As  a  literary  work,  it  therefore  may 
rank  more  highly  than  the  "Shaughraun"  or  the  "Col- 
leen Bawn,"  because  it  does  not  depend  on  scenery  or 
on  sensational,  or  we  may  say,  physical  effects,  but 
rather  invites  the  attention  and  engages  the  emotion  of 
the  audience  by  its  human  sufferings,  and  its  develop- 
ment of  character  and  passion.  I  think  so  far  as  dia- 
logue goes,  the  best  writing  to  be  found  in  these  plays 
is  in  "Arrah-na-Pogue," 

Dion  Boucicault  presents  a  diversified  picture — one 
to  be  condemned  and  to  be  admired.  He  was  too 
successful  to  be  professionally  jealous,  and  we  find 
him  befriending  Henry  Irving,  Robertson,  Byron,  and 

138 


Taylor.     As  a  friend,  he  became  an  ardent  supporter   "^^0 
of  Oscar  Wilde,  when  that  neurotic  poet  made  his   -^-rttir^rfltrlf-ee 
visit  to  America  in  1882,  and  he  was  also  foremost  in    OOUClCalUHp 
his  encouragement  of  Sadie  Martinot,  bringing  her 
over  to  appear  in  his  plays.  So  active  was  Boucicault 
in  every  line  connected  with  the  stage  that  his  pro- 
lixity became  a  joke  among  his  associates.     He  was 
the  wonder  of  the  hour,  and  he  posed  as  such. 
Boucicault  has  left  his  impress  upon  the  development 
of  drama,  and  his  name  is  an  important  one  in  its 
history.   But  few  of  his  plays  bear  the  permanent 
elements  that  will  preserve  them  for  the  next  century. 
He  was  original,  if  by  that  word  we  mean  that  he  was 
entertaining;  otherwise  he  was  clever — a  cleverness 
based  upon  his  gift  of  dialogue,  however  imitative, 
and  his  knowledge  of  stagecraft.  Mr.  Vance  Thomp- 
son's estimate  is  fair : 

He  gave  his  age  what  it  wanted.  .  .  .  He  was  a  drama- 
turgical matador.  .  .  .  The  Boucicault  drama  is  dead; 
any  discussion  of  it  is  in  the  nature  of  an  autopsy.  Its 
most  notable  quality  was  its  gayety — its  fine  animal 
spirits.  It  was  merry  and  clean. 

Of  the  Boucicault  children,  Dion  William  (bom  in 
New  Orleans)  was  killed  in  an  English  railroad  acci- 
dent ;  both  Eva  (bom  in  New  York)  and  Nina  (bom 
in  London)  were  on  the  stage,  Eva  inheriting  the  play- 
wright's talents  in  a  slight  degree ;  at  one  time  she 
adapted  a  play  for  Lester  Wallack.  Patrice,  the  only 
one  of  the  family  not  to  go  on  the  stage,  was  lame. 
The  two  most  familiar  to  present-day  theatre-goers 
are  George  Darley  (bom  in  New  York)  and  Aubrey 
Robertson  (bom  in  London).  The  former,  now  known 
as  Dion,  early  in  his  career  managed  two  theatres  in 
Melbourne  and  in  Sydney,  Australia,  there  presenting 
and  acting  in  some  of  his  father's  plays.  For  the  past 
years  he  has  remained  in  London,  appearing  in  such 
pieces  as  R.  C.  Carton's  "Lady  Huntworth's  Exper- 

139 


^hp  iment,"  Captain  Marshall's  "A  Royal  Family,"  and 

^  Pinero's  "Trelawny  of  the  Wells."  At  present  he  is 

J^OUClCdUltjo    one  of  the  most  successful  of  Charles  Frohman's 
stage-managers. 

Aubrey  Boucicault,  closely  identified  with  the  New 
York  stage,  has  himself  written  three  plays :  "The 
Favorite,"  "Budgets,"  and  "Court  Scandal,"  with 
which  Seymour  Hicks  attracted  attention  for  two 
hundred  evenings.  But  Mr.  Boucicault  is  not  so  much 
a  producer  as  he  is  an  actor,  one  of  varied  abilities. 
His  first  appearance  was  on  March  ii,  1887,  while 
Kate  Claxton  was  presenting  "The  Two  Orphans"  in 
St.  Louis.  He  next  went  to  London,  where  he  received 
valuable  training  for  five  years  under  Charles  Wynd- 
ham.  Then  he  returned  to  America,  and  in  quick 
succession  was  in  the  support  of  Stuart  Robson, 
Richard  Mansfield,  and  Charles  and  Rose  Coghlan.  - 
As  Gratiano  in  "The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  which 
was  sumptuously  presented  by  Mr.  N.  C.  Goodwin 
and  Miss  Maxine  Elliott,  he  showed  spirit,  while  his 
performance  of  Paolo  in  Mr.  Otis  Skinner's  re- 
vival of  Boker's  "Francesca  da  Rimini"  was  full  of 
grace  and  romance.  Mr.  Boucicault  is  versatile ;  his 
work  is  earnest  and  pleasing.  He  has  acted  in  Shake- 
speare ;  he  has  played  the  Boucicault  drama ;  he  has 
helped  sing  in  the  lightest  operetta.  Because  of  this 
versatility,  he  has  fluctuated  between  conjiedy,  trag- 
edy, farce,  and  vaudeville. 

Since  the  actor's  opportunity  is  fleeting,  it  is  well  to 
aim  at  intensity  rather  than  diversity,  for  general 
excellence  passes  with  the  hour.  We  estimate  a  man 
retrospectively  by  his  virility,  by  his  right  to  stand 
alone.  The  actors  of  the  past  towered  above  their 
companies.  Is  it  that  the  absence  of  a  stock  system 
— of  a  repertoire  regime— has  done  away  with  the 
tragedian,  the  comedian,  and  has  given  us  only  the 
actor?  For  the  sons  of  their  fathers  are  laboring 
under  difficulties  in  a  day  that  seeks  variety. 
140 


VI— THE  HACKETTS 


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VI— THE  HACKETTS 

N  1066,  when  William  the  Con- 
queror came  over  the  channel 
with  his  vaUant  Norman  knights, 
one  Baron  Hackett  was  fore- 
most among  them,  and  for  his 
trusty  service  on  the  field  of 
Hastings  he  was  given  posses- 
sion of  large  tracts  of  land.  In 
token  whereof  his  name  was 
graven  on  the  honor-roll  of  Battle  Abbey.  The  titles 
thus  received  descended  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion, and  during  the  reign  of  Henry  II  Dominus 
Paganus  de  Hackett  followed  the  English  king  into 
Ireland,  where  further  lands  and  seigniories  were 
given  to  him.  These  were  held  by  the  Barons  Hackett 
for  many  a  year,  and  several  members  of  the  family 
sat  in  the  House  of  Parliament.  Their  feudal  rank, 
however,  lost  prestige  during  the  last  century.  In 
mere  glory  of  title,  it  could  have  been  rightly  claimed 
by  James  H.  Hackett,  had  he  wished  it,  but  he  was 
essentially  American  in  his  ideas  and  had  no  use  for 
it.  Still  on  another  side  could  this  family  boast  of 
noble  distinction.  When  Edmund  Hackett,  who  was 
the  great-grandfather  of  the  present  representative, 
married,  he  was  living  in  Amsterdam,  Holland,  and 
took  to  wife  a  daughter  of  Baron  de  Massau;  their 
son  was  Thomas  G.  Hackett,  to  whom  America  is 
directly  indebted  for  an  invigorating  force  in  her 
dramatic  history.  For  some  time  he  served  in  the 
Life  Guards  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  where  he  held 
the  rank  of  lieutenant.  But  his  health  became  shat- 
tered, and  the  better  to  regain  it,  he  decided  to  set 
sail  for  America,  drawn  there  probably  by  the  vigor 
manifest  in  a  growing  and  a  lately  victorious  nation. 
His  family  distinction  gained  him  immediate  admit- 
tance to  the  best  of  New  York  society.  In  1799  he 
married  a  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Abraham  Keteltas,  of 

143 


t2Ll)C  Jamaica,  Long  Island,  a  prominent  divine  during 

l^^srhrf-f-ci  *^®  Revolution — "  the  fighting  parson"  he  was  famil- 
l^atUilVp  iarly  called.  The  newly-married  couple  settled  in  New 
York,  and  they  were  Uving  at  72  William  Street 
when  their  son,  the  future  actor,  was  bom  on  March 
15,  1800.  The  husband  died  in  1803,  and  Mrs.  Hack- 
ett  and  her  child  returned  to  the  Long  Island  home. 
Through  the  Keteltas  alliance  the  Hacketts  became 
indirectly  connected  with  the  Duanes,  Beekmans, 
Roosevelts,  De  Peysters,  and  others  well  known  in 
New  York  annals. 

For  ten  years  young  James  Henry  went  to  the  Union 
Hall  Academy  on  Long  Island,  where  he  was  thor- 
oughly grounded  in  Greek  and  Latin,  as  all  boys  were 
in  those  days  of  austere  but  culture-giving  studies. 
Then  at  the  age  of  fifteen  he  entered  Columbia  Col- 
lege, where  he  began  an  extensive  classical  course; 
this  was  unfortunately  interrupted  by  severe  illness, 
in  fact,  he  had  to  abandon  it  altogether.  But  he 
had  acquired  during  these  years  a  certain  accuracy 
of  expression  very  evident  in  whatever  statements 
came  from  his  pen  in  after-life. 
When  he  was  scarcely  twelve  years  old,  Hackett 
claims  that  his  attention  was  absorbed  in  a  minute 
study  of  "Macbeth."  It  is  the  only  intimation  of  his 
serious  attention  being  thus  early  drawn  to  the  stage 
as  a  profession,  though  he  often  amused  his  friends 
with  imitations  which  were  considered  excellent. 
His  preliminary  education  developed  in  him  a  criti- 
cal insight  that  often  hmited  him  when  he  came  to 
act  a  Shakespearian  role. 

After  recovering  his  health  Hackett  bethought  him 
of  the  law,  and  so,  under  the  direction  of  General 
Robert  Bogardus,  he  began  his  reading.  This  should 
have  been  carried  on  systematically,  and  would  have 
been,  no  doubt,  had  not  the  young  man's  mind  wan- 
dered elsewhere,  refusing  to  become  centred  on  Coke 
and  Blackstone. 
144 


JAMES    H.    HACKETT,    AS    FALSTAFF 


Somewhere  there  is  a  slight  reference  to  Hackett's     'fl^h^ 
appearance  during  this  year  of  1816,  in  a  small  part     «^     », 
at  a  theatre  in  Newark,  New  Jersey.  Certainly  his     I^BCnCttjS 
future  life  as  a  lawyer  did  not  seem  congenial  in  his 
eyes.  So,  in  1817,  he  entered  the  grocery-store  of 
a  relative,  A.  K.  Fish,  and  he  remained  in  trade  for 
many  years. 

The  power  of  mimicry  which  he  possessed  naturally 
suggests  his  having  been  a  theatre-goer.  In  18 19 
he  saw  both  Wallack  and  T.  A.  Cooper  play  Hamlet. 
He  was  fast  becoming  a  Shakespearian  scholar,  and 
he  most  likely  went  to  see  Shakespeare  acted  when- 
ever he  could — counting  many  of  his  friends  among 
the  members  of  the  profession.  For  he  met  and  mar- 
ried in  that  same  year  (1819)  a  popular  actress  of 
the  period,  Catharine  Lee  Sugg.  She  had  a  pleasant 
contralto  voice,  and  she  was  commendable  in  her 
straight  character  parts. 

Soon  after  the  wedding  Hackett,  in  April,  1820,  settled 
in  Utica,  New  York,  where  he  lived  until  1825,  Here 
he  engaged  in  the  grocery  business,  and  because  there 
was  a  market  for  crockery  he  added  all  kinds  of  such 
ware  to  his  stock.  He  increased  his  capital  by  borrow- 
ing from  a  cousin,  John  Beekman,  and  by  1825  he 
had  accumulated  sufficient  money  from  his  profits 
to  pay  his  debts  and  to  turn  toward  New  York  again. 
The  lady  he  had  married  was  bom  in  1798,  and 
through  her  talents  had  won  for  herself  the  distinc- 
tion, as  early  as  1805,  of  being  called  the  Infant 
Roscius.  In  1818,  on  September  ist,  she  made  her 
American  debut,  arriving  direct  from  the  Birming- 
ham Theatre.  "Her  forte,"  according  to  Ireland, 
"was  comedy;  her  merry,  romping  country  lasses 
have  never  since  been  equalled,  and  her  chamber- 
maids were  almost  as  meritorious,"  The  only  de- 
scription we  have  of  her  is  contained  in  this  jingle 
which  was  penned  by  one  of  her  stanch  sup- 
porters: 

145 


There's  sweet  Miss  Lee  Sugg — by-the-by,  she's  not 
pretty ; 

She's  a  little  too  large,  and  has  not  too  much  grace; 
Yet  there's  something  about  her  so  witching  and  witty, 

'Tis  pleasure  to  gaze  on  her  good-humored  face. 

Retiring  just  after  her  marriage,  Mrs.  Hackett  was 
forced  to  return  to  the  stage  in  1826  on  account  of 
her  husband's  pecuniary  difficulties.  Again,  in  1832, 
she  retired,  her  last  play  being  "Of  Age  To-morrow." 
But  once  more  she  had  to  resume  her  stage  duties, 
and  on  May  19,  1838,  she  performed  in  "Perfection," 
with  her  sister,  Mrs.  Sharp.  Mrs.  Hackett  died  in 
Jamaica  on  December  4,  1845,  leaving  one  son, 
John  K.  Hackett,  who  for  many  years  was  Recorder 
in  the  City  of  New  York.  Innumerable  anecdotes  are 
told  of  him,  all  indicating  a  strenuous  kind  of  humor, 
more  startling  than  subtle.  His  connection  with  the 
theatre  is  instanced  by  Prof.  Brander  Matthews,  in 
the  following  notice : 

Happy  New  Year,  1875.  Grand  entertainment  at  the 
Sing  Sing  Prison,  to  commence  at  8  A.M.  .  .  .  N.  B. 
Tickets  of  admission  may  be  had  at  the  Court  of  Gen- 
eral Sessions.  John  K.  Hackett,  Manager.  No  extra 
charge  for  reserved  seats. 

To  return  to  the  career  of  our  American  comedian. 
When,  in  1825,  he  left  Utica  and  came  to  New  York, 
he  lived  at  23  Broadway,  investing  all  his  money  in  a 
speculative  venture,  which  failed  him  very  unexpect- 
edly. To  a  man  of  Hackett's  integrity  this  disaster 
was  hard  to  face ;  but  his  friends  came  to  his  assist- 
ance, and  he  was  not  one  to  give  way  before  external 
circumstances.  Yet  those  were  the  days  when  it  was 
the  fashion  to  imprison  for  debt.  Hackett  and  his 
wife  now  turned  to  the  stage ;  the  former  decided  to 
put  his  amateur  talents  to  a  practical  test.  So,  on 
March  i,  1826,  the  two  made  their  appearance  to- 
gether in  "Love  in  a  Village,"  Hackett's  first  role 
146 


being  Justice  Woodcock.  By  some  the  attempt  was     '^b^ 
considered  creditable,  though  the  actor  himself  was     x\\     *^  4. 
obliged  to  confess  that  he  was  abashed  on  the  open-     t^SCnCttjS 
ing  night,  but  rallied  and  made  a  hit  the  next.  So 
perceptible  was  the  stage-fright  to  many  who  were 
present  that  not  a  few  of  his  well-wishers  advised 
him  never  again  to  go  on  the  boards,  but  to  look  else- 
where for  occupation. 

However,  Hackett  persisted.  At  his  wife's  benefit,  on 
March  loth,  he  assumed  a  part,  Sylvester  Dagger- 
wood,  introducing  striking  imitations  of  Kean,  Math- 
ews, Hilson,  and  Barnes,  actors  familiar  to  theatre- 
goers. He  followed  this  with  many  dialect  roles,  French 
and  German  among  them,  and  thereby  established  the 
fact  of  his  versatility.  The  drama  moves  in  cycles ;  it 
is  imitative ;  to-day  we  are  being  deluged  with  Indian 
plays,  as  a  few  years  ago  we  were  sated  with  musi- 
cal comedies,  which  were  not  sufficiently  unlike 
to  be  distinctive.  When,  in  June,  1826,  Hackett  pre- 
sented the  Yankee  story  of  "Jonathan  and  Uncle 
Ben,"  he  found  the  field  of  American  impersonators 
well  supplied  with  excellent  character  players.  The 
American  overran  the  stage  in  every  form,  from 
pioneer  to  farmer,  from  Indian  to  negro.  But 
Hackett  himself  was  warmly  commended,  and  soon 
after  appeared  as  Morbleau  in  "Monsieur  Tonson." 
His  first  decided  recognition  came  when,  as  one  of 
the  Dromios  in  "The  Comedy  of  Errors"  (October, 
1826),  he  played  vis-a-vis  with  Barnes,  who  saw 
himself  aped  by  his  associate  to  a  startling  degree; 
every  motion,  every  intonation  of  the  voice,  every 
Uttle  vagary  in  costume,  was  so  well  studied  as  to 
defy  detection.  Such  acting  was  exhilarating ;  it  con- 
tained all  the  zest  of  a  good  game  of  hide-and-seek ; 
it  was  only  to  be  equalled  by  the  Drew  brothers  in  the 
same  play.  This  success,  while  encouraging,  did 
not  entirely  please  Hackett.  He  was  like  so  many 
of  his  contemporaries  who  arrived  at  the  parting  of 

147 


i^acfecttje; 


the  ways ;  he  was  unsettled  between  his  natural  tal- 
ents as  a  comedian  on  the  one  hand,  and  his  strong 
taste  for  tragedy  on  the  other. 

The  old  perverted  adage,  "When  in  doubt — don't!" 
was  not  heeded  by  Hackett.  In  December,  1826,  on 
the  eve  of  sailing  for  England,  he  appeared  as  Richard 
III,  a  role  played  in  imitation  of  Edmund  Kean.  But 
add  to  this  his  preconceived  notions  of  the  piece, 
reached  through  careful  study,  and  the  reasons  are 
not  far  to  find  why  the  impression  he  made  was  not  a 
deep  one.  He  proceeded  across  the  ocean,  and  on  the 
night  of  April  i,  1827,  he  acted  before  a  Covent  Gar- 
den audience,  giving  his  Yankee  stories  and  various 
imitations;  these  they  seemed  to  like,  but  they  did 
not  relish  his  portraits  of  Macready  and  Kean,  which 
he  added  to  his  programme. 

His  stay  was  a  very  short  one.  Some  would  assert  this 
to  be  caused  by  the  fact  that  he  was  an  American, 
one  of  the  first,  if  not  indeed  the  first,  to  make  his 
debut  on  the  English  stage  as  a  star.  In  September  of 
the  same  year,  he  was  again  at  the  New  York  Park 
Theatre  in  "Richard  III"  (September  5,  1827). 
Barnes  took  a  benefit  soon  after,  and  Hackett  was 
cast  in  a  farce,  "Two  Sosias,"  adapted  from  Dryden's 
"Amphitryon."  During  the  season  of  1827-28  Othello, 
lago,  Gloster  in  "Jane  Shore,"  Paris  in  "The  Roman 
Actor,"  Montmorency  in  the  "Hundred  Pound  Note," 
and  Tristram  Fickle  in  "Weathercock"  (a  two-part 
comedy),  constituted  his  varied  repertoire.  At  this 
time  Hackett  was  himself  growing  critical  of  his  own 
work,  and  he  wrote  : 

I  studied  and  attempted  to  act  Shakespeare's  lago, 
but  although  I  was  received  encouragingly  at  the  .  .  . 
theatre,  a  few  times,  and  favorably  reported  by  the 
press,  I  found  it  not  attractive ;  and  though  the  result 
confirmed  me  in  the  correctness  of  the  conception  I 
had  formed  after  an  elaborate  study,  I  was  by  no  means 
satisfied  with  my  own  personation. 

148 


Ci^e 


Against  his  own  statement  that  Falstaff  was  for  the 
first  time  played  by  him  in  Philadelphia,  on  May  31, 
1832,  to  Charles  Kean's  Hotspur,  is  often  recorded  I^SCl^CttjS 
the  disputed  date.  May  13,  1828.  But  though  actors 
care  Uttle  for  exact  dates,  Hackett  was  too  precise  in 
any  statement  he  ever  made  to  commit  an  error  of 
this  kind.  1832  it  must  have  been.  He  and  Kean  were 
then  starring  on  alternate  nights  at  the  Arch  Street 
Theatre;  and  stopping  at  the  same  hotel — the  Man- 
sion House  was  the  place  of  fashion  in  those  days — 
they  often  met,  and  would  walk  together,  convers- 
ing on  topics  of  mutual  interest.  On  one  such  occa- 
sion Kean  turned  to  Hackett.  "Have  you  ever 
thought  of  acting  Falstaff?"  he  asked.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  Hackett  had  spent  some  time  in  working 
over  the  possibiUties  of  the  character,  and  he  told 
Kean  so.  "Good,"  said  the  latter,  "since  that's  the 
case,  what  do  you  say  to  our  playing  'Henry  IV'  to- 
gether? I've  always  wanted  to  try  Hotspur,  and  if  the 
performance  can  be  got  ready  in  a  week's  time,  I'll 
act  with  you." 

Thus  it  was  that  Hackett's  Falstaff  was  brought  to 
Hght,  on  so  hot  a  day  that  the  poor  actor,  beneath 
the  rotundity  of  his  make-up,  sat  breathing  heavily 
from  the  exertion.  The  manager  watched  him  intently 
through  the  performance ;  here  was  a  part  that  had 
been  studied  assiduously,  only  to  find  that  the  inter- 
pretation of  Falstaff  v/as  not  the  popular  one.  But 
Hackett  persisted  in  the  face  of  his  manager's  strug- 
gle to  withdraw  the  play  in  favor  of  some  other,  and 
by  the  third  evening  he  felt  his  audience  with  him. 
The  more  an  actor  presents  a  rich  role,  the  maturer 
his  conception  will  become.  In  his  book  of  critical 
remarks,  Hackett  summed  up  his  ripe  estimate  of 
Falstaff  as  a  "philosophic  compound  of  vice  and 
sensuality,  with  no  amiable  or  tolerable  quaUty  to 
gloss  over  his  moral  deformity,"  unless  it  be  that  wit 
and  humor  are  allowed  to  dominate  the  interpreta- 

149 


d)C  tion.  These  remarks  were  enlarged  upon  in  his  "Fal- 

i^Pirftrffrt    staff:  a  Shakespearian  Tract,"  which  was  written  in 
l^nlal  113    answer  to  his  London  critics. 

In  New  York,  at  the  John  Street  Theatre,  as  early  as 
1788,  Falstaff  first  pleased  American  audiences  in 
"The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor"  (October  5th); 
Harper  appeared  in  the  role.  Then  on  April  i,  1807, 
at  the  Old  Park,  John  E.  Harwood  attempted  the 
part,  and  later,  at  the  same  theatre,  on  January  15, 
1829,  Hilson  was  the  next  Falstaff.  Lustily  played  at 
different  periods,  by  Charles  Bass,  Dwyer,  Ben  De 
Bar,  John  Jack,  and  by  Charles  Fisher  in  Augustin 
Daly's  revival  of  1872  and  1886,  Hackett  remains  the 
Falstaff  of  America,  and  if  tradition  counts  in  the 
annals  of  the  American  stage,  so  he  shall  be  identified 
for  many  a  year.  The  conditions  are  not  such  to-day 
as  to  receive  a  Falstaff  with  favor.  If,  in  "Henry  IV," 
one  agrees  with  Ireland  in  calling  the  coarse  EngUsh 
knight,  "the  cream  of  Enghsh  wit  and  humor,"  it 
must  likewise  be  remembered  that  this  humor  was 
bom  entirely  of  a  low  nature.  It  takes  a  pecuUar 
theatre-going  public  to  relish  the  sensual  Sir  John 
and  his  attitude  toward  life. 

The  year  1828,  though  not  marked  by  the  production 
of  Falstaff,  saw  Hackett,  on  December  3d,  in  the 
younger  George  Colman's  comedy,  "Who  Wants  a 
Guinea?"  which  the  actor  materially  altered  and 
renamed  "Jonathan  in  England,"  much  to  the 
chagrin  of  the  author.  The  play  was  presented  with 
success,  for  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Hackett.  Then  fol- 
lowed the  dialect  roles  of  Sir  Archy  McSarcasm  in 
the  farce,  "Love  k-Ia-Mode,"  and  Jonathan  Plough- 
boy  in  Woodworth's  comedy,  "Forest  Rose."  It 
was  on  April  22,  1830,  that  Mr.  Hackett  produced 
his  first  dramatic  version  of  "Rip  Van  Winkle,"  at 
the  Park  Theatre ;  the  text  was  afterward  altered  in 
London  by  Bayle  Bernard.  Mr.  Sol.  Smith,  with  a 
stately  manner  of  expressing  emotion  peculiar  to 

150 


the  time,  declared  with  emphasis  his  delight  in  '^hp 
Hackett's  Rip.  "I  should  despair,"  he  said,  "of  find-  ^^ 
ing  a  man  or  woman  in  an  audience  of  five  hundred,  l^flCfetttjSl 
who  could  hear  [his]  utterance  of  five  words  in  the 
second  act,  'But  she  was  mine  vrow,'  without  ex- 
periencing some  moisture  in  the  eyes." 
In  183 1  James  K.  Paulding  wrote  a  play  for  Hackett 
called  "The  Lion  of  the  West,"  in  which  the  character 
of  Colonel  Nimrod  Wildfire,  dressed  in  buckskin  suit 
and  wildcat  cap,  afforded  the  actor  ample  opportu- 
nity for  the  portrayal  of  what  the  critics  of  the  time 
wrote  as  "reckless  energy,  associated  with  a  love  of 
unbridled  fun  and  frolic."  This  part  was  so  successful 
that  Bayle  Bernard  was  set  to  work  upon  another 
drama  containing  the  same  character,  and  this  was 
acted  under  the  title  "The  Kentuckian."  In  his  Yan- 
kee roles,  Hackett  stood  close  second  to  George  H. 
Hill,  who  himself  was  having  such  popularity  that 
he  was  famiharly  known  as  Yankee  Hill. 
In  the  early  part  of  1837,  Washington  Irving  and 
Hackett  had  a  slight  correspondence  regarding  the 
possibiUty  of  a  play  being  drawn  from  the  "Knicker- 
bocker History."  Irving  did  not  seem  to  be  overcon- 
fident about  the  plan,  but  Hackett  thought  that  a 
pubUc  interested  in  American  things  would  assure 
success  to  a  drama,  which  in  three  scenes  devoted 
each  act  to  a  stage -portrait  of  Wouter  Von  Twiller, 
Wilhelmus  Kieft,  and  Peter  Stuyvesant.  So,  with  the 
technical  aid  of  Bayle  Bernard,  he  set  to  work  on 
"Three  Dutch  Governors,"  which,  after  all  the  labor 
expended  upon  it,  proved  of  Uttle  success.  The  stu- 
dent's sense  of  history  overweighted  the  scenes,  and 
the  acts  themselves,  presenting  Hackett  as  identified 
with  three  wholly  distinct  personations,  gave  no 
coherency  to  a  central  idea,  nor  allowed  of  any  pro- 
longed sympathy  on  the  part  of  the  audience. 
All  this  time,  Hackett's  interest  in  the  theatre  was 
not  so  wholly  absorbed  that  he  did  not  consider  seri- 

151 


•^IjP  ously  returning  to  the  mercantile  position  he  had 

^  previously  filled.  In  1836  he  was  on  the  point  of  re- 

f^dCntttjEl  suming  his  grocery  business,  but  from  every  side  he 
was  dissuaded  ;  even  those  who  had  aided  him  during 
his  financial  straits  advised  him  against  the  move 
for  no  other  reason  than  his  unfitness  for  the  life. 
How  he  was  regarded  by  the  men  who  knew  him  well, 
and  who  loved  him  for  his  gentlemanly  character  and 
for  his  personal  integrity,  may  best  be  gleaned  from 
the  following,  penned  in  a  letter  to  Hackett  by  a  Mr, 
Luman  Reed : 

Your  nature  is  too  free,  frank,  and  open,  to  keep 
closely  your  own  secrets  in  trade,  to  selfish  advantage. 
You  are  too  unsuspecting  and  confiding,  to  deal  with 
the  numerous  sharpers  that  have  now  crept  into  our 
large  trading  community;  while  your  disposition  is  too 
sanguine  and  excitable  for  that  coolness  and  prudence, 
that  circumspection  and  close  calculation,  so  requisite 
now^-a-days,  for  an  easy,  and  snug,  and  regularly  pros- 
perous merchant  in  New  York. 

There  came  the  year  1840,  and  with  it  Hackett's 
decision  to  present  "King  Lear"  and  "Hamlet." 
"  *Kling  Lear'  is  not  a  popular  play  with  the  millions," 
he  wrote,  "because  the  young,  who  constitute  the 
great  majority  of  playgoers,  are  too  inexperienced  to 
comprehend  the  dotage  of  the  aged  and  tender  father, 
and  to  sympathize  with  his  consequent  affiction." 
The  very  year  he  determined  to  take  this  role  he  saw 
Forrest  in  the  part.  Those  were  the  days  when  an 
actor  did  not  hesitate  to  play  Shylock,  Hamlet, 
Othello,  or  any  other  of  Shakespeare's  characters, 
simply  because  a  "Richmond  was  in  the  field."  Those 
were  the  days  when  an  audience  liked  to  compare 
actor  with  actor  in  the  same  role,  would  go  two 
nights  in  succession  to  see  "Hamlet"  for  that  pur- 
pose, and  when  competition  was  one  of  ability 
rather  than  of  sumptuousness. 
What  Hackett  saw  in  Forrest's  Lear,  however,  was 

152 


far  from  his  own  conception;  he  was  confronted  by     '^l^C 
something  stem  and  forbidding  to  his  mind;  some-     tAarhotf^ 
thing  that  sprang,  so  he  wrote,  from  the  head,  rather     l^atnvilp 
than  from  the  heart.     Forrest,  while  acting,  lost  him- 
self in  torrents  of  power;  the  overflow  of  energy 
often  hid  the  spirit  by  its  mere  animalism.  But  he 
was  acting — acting  in  the  full  absorption  of  his  role, 
however  it  lacked  the  soft  humanity  and  repose  of 
some  of  his  contemporaries.  "I  act  Shylock,"  he  once 
said,  "but  I  am  Lear !"  While  in  New  York,  Hackett 
found  scant  favor  in  the  part;  still  when  he  went 
over  with  it  to  Burton  in  Philadelphia,  he  filled  the 
theatre  for  a  week,  which  fact,  he  asserted  naively, 
"gave  me  a  strong  foothold  for  tragic  promise  in  that 
city." 

Just  precisely  in  proportion  to  the  amoimt  of  fire 
burning  in  Forrest's  conception  of  the  distraught 
monarch  was  the  amount  of  exactitude  and  tender 
precision  put  into  the  part  by  Hackett.  All  that  For- 
rest v/as  not  to  his  mind,  he  aimed  to  be.  He  disliked 
Forrest's  physical  impetuosity,  his  overstrained 
rage,  his  whining  pathos,  his  attempt  to  hide  the 
beauty  of  blank  verse.  When  Hackett  went  to  the 
theatre  as  a  spectator,  when  he  read  a  play,  when  he 
acted  —  it  mattered  not  which  —  the  student  sense 
was  always  in  the  ascendency.  He  witnessed  both 
Fonest  and  Macready  play  Hamlet;  the  time  the 
former  hissed  the  latter  in  the  part,  Hackett  was 
following  closely  Macready's  reading  of  the  lines, 
and  on  the  morrow  he  wrote  to  the  daily  papers,  send- 
ing his  critical  comments  on  the  performance.  It  is 
curious  to  note  Wemyss,  in  his  "  Recollections  "  of 
twenty-sLx  years,  referring  sarcastically  to  Hackett's 
attitude  toward  the  drama ;  the  manager  considered 
this  actor  nothing  more  than  a  poseur,  when  in  real- 
ity Hackett  possessed  a  thorough  knowledge  of  his 
Shakespeare,  a  knowledge  which  he  was  sincerely 
exercising. 

153 


^f^t  A  picture  rises  up  before  us  of  the  Gentleman  of  the 

i^BCfeCttjS    ^l^ck  Stock,  who  had  Shakespeare  at  his  finger  tips, 
'^  who  could  quote  passages  by  the  page,  and  who  could 

back  with  vehemence  his  set  opinions  as  to  what  was 
meant  and  what  was  not  meant  by  a  particular  line. 
That  same  period  which  produced  classical  scholars 
of  all  country  gentlemen,  especially  Southerners,  put 
a  Shakespeare  by  the  side  of  Cicero  and  Horace. 
Hackett  was  such  a  type,  but  he  added  to  it  all  a 
practical  association  with  the  stage. 
Not  many  times  in  the  history  of  the  American  thea- 
tre do  we  detect  this  combat  going  on  within  one  man 
— the  combat  of  actor  and  critic.  Yet  there  is  a  feeling 
that  had  Hackett  been  able,  during  his  moments  of 
acting  Shakespearian  r61es,  to  forget  the  theoretical 
and  analytical  side  of  his  work,  he  would  have  been 
a  greater  actor. 

From  early  boyhood  he  had  interleaved  his  "Ham- 
let" with  comments  and  text  comparisons;  as  the 
years  advanced  the  notes  became  varied  and  abun- 
dant; the  actor  saw  them  take  shape,  and  with  a 
proper  amotmt  of  pride  he  showed  them  to  friends, 
among  them  to  John  Quincy  Adams.  This  led  to  a 
correspondence  which  shall  be  considered  later.  But 
Hackett's  managers,  Edmimd  Simpson  of  the  Park, 
and  Burton  in  Philadelphia,  saw  advertising  ad- 
vantages in  the  letters  that  passed  between  the  ex- 
President  and  their  "star";  the  correspondence  had 
attracted  public  attention.  So,  with  much  trepidation 
on  the  part  of  Hackett,  it  was  decided  that  he  should 
present  "Hamlet."  "Mr.  Simpson,"  so  the  actor 
wrote,  "suggested,  urged,  and  finally  persuaded  me 
to  impersonate  my  own  conception." 
As  a  theatre-goer,  it  had  been  Hackett's  good  fort- 
une to  see  nearly  all  the  great  figures  of  the  stage. 
In  this  role  of  Hamlet  alone,  he  had  witnessed 
the  performances  of  Cooper,  Wallack,  Conway, 
Hamblin,  Kean,  Young,  Macready,  Charles  Kemble, 

154 


JAMES    K.     HACKETT 


J.  B.  Booth,  John  Vandenhoff,  Charles  Kean,  George  '^'U(> 

Vandenhoff,  and  Forrest.  He  not  only  followed  care-  ^"^ 

fully  the  work  of  each  of  these,  but  wrote  critiques  l^acfeCttjSl 
upon  them,  all  gathered  in  his  book. 

When  I  reflected  that  having  never  before  thought  of 
"acting"  Hamlet,  there  was  no  time  to  acquire  by 
practice,  which  alone  makes  perfect  on  the  stage,  the 
requisite  ease  of  a  gentleman,  the  dignity  of  a  prince, 
appropriate  action  and  flexibility  of  voice,  in  order  to 
give  proper  variety  to  the  vehement  passions,  weight  to 
the  declamatory,  and  poignancy  to  the  spirited  and 
satirical  portions,  I  became  frightfully  nervous. 

This  dread  was  somewhat  appeased  by  the  assurance 
from  his  manager  that  all  would  go  well,  because 
having  played  Lear,  he  had  gained  a  certain  compass 
of  voice,  and  a  certain  "natural"  action  for  passion- 
ate scenes.  Still  Hackett's  common  sense  told  him 
that  the  one  would  do  little  to  help  the  other. 
Beginning  once  more  his  minute  comparison  of  texts 
with  the  1623  folio  of  the  play,  Hackett  set  about 
his  preparation ;  not  only  in  pose,  accentuation,  and 
shades  of  meaning  did  he  rehearse  at  the  theatre, 
but  he  repeated  his  "business"  all  over  again,  once 
inside  his  own  room.  He  was  nervous,  not  for  fear  as 
to  what  the  public  might  say ;  but  Hackett,  the  critic, 
was  about  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  the  actor ;  Hack- 
ett, the  actor,  trembled,  for  the  critic  in  him  told  him 
that  he  was  by  nature  a  comedian. 
After  sleepless  nights,  the  evening  arrived  (October 
21,  1840J.  Mrs.  Wood,  who  had  seconded  Kean's 
Hamlet,  once  more  played  Ophelia.  And  as  for  Hack- 
ett's feelings  during  the  progress  of  the  play,  "I  en- 
dured a  constant  and  violent  palpitation  of  the 
heart." 

Hackett  prided  himself  upon  the  care  and  attention 
given  to  the  scenic  effects,  especially  in  that  scene 
with  Hamlet's  mother,  when  he  forces  her  to  look 
upon  the  portraits  of  the  two  kings.  He  noticed  dur- 

155 


C^c 


ing  the  evening  that  his  work  was  generally  marked 
"either  by  mute  applause  or  eloquent  approbation," 
I^BCl^CttlEi  and  on  the  next  day,  when  he  went  down  to  the  thea- 
tre, he  was  greeted  by  many  friends  and  congratu- 
lated ;  but  no  amount  of  adulation  or  praise  could 
remove  from  him  the  disquieting  doubts  brought 
forward  by  his  own  critical  scrutiny  of  himself.  The 
actor  "received  through  the  box-office  of  the  Park 
Theatre  some  verses,  in  a  female  hand,  signed  'Mi- 
nerva,' so  complimentary  that  I  suspected  them  as 
designed  for  a  practical  quiz." 

Besides  "Hamlet,"  Hackett  presented  on  that  even- 
ing the  ludicrous  piece,  "A  MiUtia  Training,"  in 
which  he  personated  a  Yankee  major,  and  thereto 
he  added  the  first  act  of  his  ever  popular  "Ken- 
tuckian." 

Burton  had  faith  in  the  comedian's  tragic  powers; 
he  believed  that  a  combination  of  these  inevitable 
parts  with  his  more  popular  roles  would  not  fail  to 
attract ;  so  Hackett  was  booked  for  a  week's  engage- 
ment at  the  New  National,  Philadelphia,  where  the 
bills  contained  the  following  varied  announcement : 

Tuesday.  Falstaff,  in  "The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor." 
Wednesday.  "King  Lear"  and  "The  Kentuckian." 
Thursday.  Falstaff,  in  "Henry  IV,"  Pt.  I. 
Friday.  "Hamlet"  and  "Yankee  Solomon  Swop." 
Saturday.  "Rip  Van  Winkle"  and  "Horse-Shoe  Robin- 
son." 
Monday.  Falstaff,  in  "Henry  IV,"  Pt.  H. 

The  experiment,  however,  was  not  a  success,  and  we 
find  Hackett  writing  that  his  performances  of  Hamlet 
and  Lear  did  not  attract  nearly  as  much  as  his  comic 
characters.  And  so, 

Without  vexation  or  regret,  I  struck  them  both  from 
my  repertoire,  and  soon  thereafter  studied  and  pro- 
duced Sir  Pertinax  McSycophant  in  Macklin's  "Man 

156 


of  the  World,"  and    also    O'Callaghan    in    Bernard's  '^fj^ 

farce  [written  in  1839]  of  "His  Last  Legs";  in  both  of  V^*^"^ 

which  parts  I  have  been  a  favorite  with  every  public  in  l^flCfeTttCi 

either  hemisphere.  ^prwun.^*-?* 

That  James  H.  Hackett  possessed  the  student  nature, 
his  book  "Notes  and  Comments  on  Shakespeare," 
published  in  1863,  clearly  testifies;  it  indicates  pa- 
tient research  and  wide  reading  among  critics;  it 
shows  stateliness  of  purpose,  and  in  style  it  is  direct 
and  to  the  point.  Had  he  set  himself  assiduously  to 
the  task,  the  actor  might  have  produced  a  work  more 
worthy  and  more  enlightening.  As  it  is,  the  volume 
is  interestingly  autobiographical,  and  figured  largely 
in  Hackett's  social  relations. 

While  it  may  fairly  be  said  that  Hackett  began 
writing  from  the  time  when,  as  a  mere  boy,  he  used 
to  scribble  notes  on  the  margin  of  his  Shakespeare, 
it  was  not  until  the  month  of  January,  1839,  when  he 
paid  a  social  rather  than  a  professional  visit  to  Wash- 
ington, that  he  began  talking  about  these  manu- 
script comments.  He  was  then  introduced  to  John 
Quincy  Adams,  between  whom  and  himself  sprang 
up  a  warm  regard.  On  this  visit,  Hackett  lent  the 
honored  statesman  his  interleaved  "Hamlet." 
From  this  courtesy  began  the  correspondence  which 
made  many  marvel  over  the  fact  that  so  busy  a  man 
as  Adams  was  in  other  lines  could  develop  such 
aesthetic  taste.  His  first  letter  was  lithographed  and 
distributed  in  many  places ;  Adams  did  not  mind ;  it 
was  his  custom  never  to  write  privately  what  he  did 
not  care  to  trust  in  print. 

When  Hackett  received  back  his  manuscript  notes, 
the  ex-President  declared  to  him  that  "Hamlet"  was 
"the  masterpiece  of  Shakespeare  — I  had  almost  said 
the  masterpiece  of  the  human  mind."  Adams  was 
one  of  those  old  Gentlemen  of  the  Black  Stock;  he 
knew  his  Shakespeare;  in  fact,  so  he  declared  with 
quaint  pride,  "my  enthusiastic  admiration  of  the  in- 

157 


VLI)C  spired  (muse  inspired)  Bard  of  Avon,  commenced  in 

i^flCfirtt^     childhood,  before  the  down  had  darkened  my  Up." 
^  '^     Hackett  naturally  treasured  this  correspondence,  but 

it  never  blinded  his  own  views;  he  differed  greatly 
with  Adams  on  many  points,  and  wrote  him  so : 
"Your  autograph  document  shall  be  treasured  in 
my  archives,"  he  said,  "but,"  and  there  followed  a 
minute  analysis  of  motives.  From  this  time  his  manu- 
script travelled  far  and  fast.  Philip  Hone,  ex-Mayor 
of  New  York;  the  Earl  of  CarUsle  (Lord  Morpeth), 
made  known  to  him  by  his  friend  Henry  Clay ;  Wash- 
ington Irving  and  James  Fenimore  Cooper,  who  both 
jotted  down  in  pencil  whatever  impressed  them  as 
worthy  of  special  note — these  men  read  Hackett's 
comments,  and  much  to  the  actor-author's  satisfac- 
tion, his  views  were  most  generally  accepted. 
On  his  numerous  trips  abroad,  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
spending  much  of  his  time  at  the  Garrick  Club  in 
London,  and  there  he  often  talked  with  T.  N.  Tal- 
fourd,  and  together  they  used  to  go  to  the  theatre. 
Talfourd,  as  well  as  John  Payne  Collier,  examined 
the  Shakespeare  notes  and  found  them  penetrating 
and  scholarly. 

Adams  did  not  simply  answer  Hackett's  letters,  or 
criticise  Hackett's  notes ;  he  sent  him,  in  November, 
1845,  his  own  remarks  on  "Othello,"  "Romeo  and 
JuUet,"  and  "King  Lear,"  contained  in  a  thesis 
which  he  called,  "Misconceptions  upon  the  Stage," 
and  this  was  shortly  followed  by  his  analytical  dis- 
quisition upon  "The  Character  of  Desdemona."  The 
old  school  of  literary  critics  of  the  drama  had  often 
declared  that  Shakespeare  was  not  intended  for  the 
stage ;  that  so  many  hidden  subtleties  as  were  in  his 
plays  could  never  be  reproduced,  but  were  to  appeal 
purely  to  the  personal  spirit  of  the  reader.  Hamlet's 
conscience  could  not  be  "shown"  by  an  actor;  Lear's 
mortal  anguish  could  only  be  represented  by  an  out- 
ward motion  or  expression  that  was  far  from  the 

158 


mental  state.  Adams  was  of  this  opinion,  and  it  is     '^h^ 
more  than  evident  that  Hackett,  too,  thought  there  ^ 

was  much  richness  in  Shakespeare  which  the  actor's     Ip^CaCttjSi 
art  could  never  claim. 

It  is  true  that  the  stage  has  to  depend  greatly  upon 
external  situation  and  gesture,  but  where  there  is 
depth  of  character,  the  actor's  own  personality  may 
enter  and  absorb  the  whole  meaning  of  the  part, 
while  in  tone  and  expression  he  can  recreate  what 
his  fancy  and  feeling  have  extracted.  Charles  Lamb 
it  was  who,  in  his  delightful  essay  on  "The  Tragedies 
of  Shakespeare,"  summed  up  the  difficulty  in  the  fact 
that  the  poet's  men  and  women  contained  so  much 
that  required  meditation.  But  Elia,  theatre-goer  as  he 
was,  always  brought  with  him  the  literary  estimate 
of  the  closet,  and  it  was  this  closet-view  that  Adams 
took,  as  well  as  Hackett. 

With  his  intimate  knowledge  of  Shakespeare,  Hack- 
ett gave  close  scrutiny  to  whatever  criticisms  of  him- 
self came  to  his  notice.  He  annotated  the  press  com- 
ments on  his  lago,  and  he  also  met  the  objections 
to  his  Faistaff  by  a  searching  analysis.  It  was  a  case 
of  the  reviewers  reviewed.  In  his  love  for  Shake- 
speare, he  was  typical  of  that  type  of  reader  who 
would  argue  the  infallibility  of  the  bard  on  all  points. 
In  such  a  spirit,  the  actor  was  prompted  to  prepare 
two  papers  on  "The  Medical  Knowledge  of  Shake- 
speare," which  provoked  discussion,  because  of  their 
claim  that  the  poet,  and  not  Harvey,  was  the  true 
discoverer  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood.  For  were 
there  not  sufficient  proofs  in  all  the  plays  to  support 
the  claim?  Did  not  a  reference  to  blood  coursing 
"through  the  natural  gate  and  alleys  of  our  body," 
found  in  "  Hamlet,"  for  instance,  point  unmistakably 
to  the  true  fact?  The  discussion  assumed  extensive 
proportions  in  the  papers,  but  ended  around  1861, 
though  Hackett  would  not  yield  his  ground  in  the 
arguments.  One  phrase  in  part  of  the  correspondence 

159 


^\y£  serves  our  purpose,  since  it  suggests  the  stateliness  of 

^  ^  the  man,  where  the  actor  replied  to  a  newspaper  let- 

]^BCiiCtt0  ter,  in  which  he  began  by  saying :  "Having  just  re- 
turned after  some  six  weeks'  business  upon  my 
landed  estate  in  IlUnois."  On  no  occasion  was  Hack- 
ett  lacking  in  the  dignity  of  the  time. 
When,  in  1863,  he  published  in  book  form  his  "Notes 
and  Comments  on  Shakespeare,"  he  sent  a  presenta- 
tion copy  to  Abraham  Lincoln,  which  elicited  an  in- 
teresting reply,  showing  a  keen  taste  on  the  part  of 
the  President. 

Washington,  August  17,  1863. 
My  dear  Sir : 

Months  ago  I  should  have  acknowledged  the  re- 
ceipt of  your  book  and  accompanying  kind  note ;  and  I 
now  have  to  beg  your  pardon  for  not  having  done  so. 
For  one  of  my  age  I  have  seen  very  little  of  the  drama. 
The  first  presentation  of  Falstaff  I  ever  saw  was 
yours  here,  last  winter  or  spring.  Perhaps  the  best 
compliment  I  can  pay,  is  to  say,  as  I  truly  can,  I  am 
very  anxious  to  see  it  again.  Some  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  I  have  never  read ;  while  others  I  have  gone  over 
perhaps  as  frequently  as  any  unprofessional  reader. 
Among  the  latter  are  "Lear,"  "Richard  III,"  "Henry 
VIII,"  "Hamlet,"  and  especially  "Macbeth."  I  think 
nothing  equals  "Macbeth."  It  is  wonderful. 
Unlike  you  gentlemen  of  the  profession,  I  think  the 
soliloquy  in  "Hamlet"  commencing  "Oh,  my  offence  is 
rank,"  surpasses  that  commencing  "To  be,  or  not  to 
be."  But  pardon  this  small  attempt  at  criticism;  I 
should  like  to  hear  you  pronounce  the  opening  speech 
of  "Richard  III."  Will  you  not  soon  visit  Washington 
again?  If  you  do,  please  call  and  let  me  make  your 
personal  acquaintance. 

Another  note  following  this,  reveals  a  deep  phase  of 
Lincoln's  character  and  temperament;  it  shows  the 
effect  slighting  comment  had  upon  him.  Unfortu- 
nately, in  the  excess  of  pleasure  over  hearing  from 
the  President,  Hackett  had  allowed  the  letter  to  be 
published. 

160 


Washington,  November  2,  1863. 


Cl^c 


My  note  to  you  I  certainly  did  not  expect  to  see  in  print;     ju^      fe^f frt 

yet  I  have  not  been  much  shocked  by  the  newspaper     t^aCnttlp 

comments  upon  it.  Those  comments  constitute  a  fair 

specimen  of  what  has  occurred  to  me  through  Ufe.  I 

have  endured  a  great  deal  of  ridicule  without  much 

maUce  and  have  received  a  great  deal  of  kindness,  not 

quite  free  from  ridicule.  I  am  used  to  it. 

During  all  this  time  Hackett  was  amassing  a  large 
fortune.  He  was  for  many  years  a  manager;  when 
the  Boston  Howard  Athenaeum  was  built,  he  as- 
sumed control;  in  1829  he  conducted  the  Chatham 
Garden  Theatre;  in  1830,  the  Bowery;  and  in  1837, 
the  National  (ItaUan  Opera  House).  When  the  fa- 
mous Astor  Place  riots  occurred,  and  the  bitter  feud 
between  Macready  and  Forrest,  rival  Macbeths,  re- 
sulted in  bloodshed  and  loss  of  life,  Hackett  managed 
the  Astor  Place  Opera  House,  where  the  disturbance 
took  place.  Five  years  later,  in  1854,  he  was  starring 
a  company  of  ItaUan  singers  at  Castle  Garden. 
Despite  this  close  application  to  business  in  America, 
the  actor  followed  his  1826  visit  to  London  by 
many  trips  abroad.  In  1832  he  played  at  the  Hay- 
market;  and  then  on  his  return  to  America  retired 
from  the  stage  for  a  time.  In  1840  he  went  to  Drury 
Lane,  and  in  1845,  the  year  his  wife  died,  he  played 
at  Covent  Garden,  being  invited  by  Prince  Albert  to 
present  his  French  character  part.  Prince  Mallet,  at 
Windsor  Castle.  In  1851  he  was  back  at  the  Hay- 
market. 

On  March  27,  1864,  Mr.  Hackett  was  married  a 
second  time,  to  Clara  Cynthia  Morgan,  and  by  this 
union  one  son  was  born,  the  present  James  K. 
Hackett. 

When,  on  December  28,  1871,  the  elder  Hackett 
passed  away,  at  his  home  in  Jamaica,  Long  Island, 
he  had  attained  a  ripe  age,  and  held  the  respect  of 
every  one ;  the  papers  commented  especially  on  his 

161 


'i^h^  being  an  American  product.  It  is  an  uncommon  in- 

stance :  to  have  an  American  actor-family  begin  on 

l^flCfiCtt^  native  soil.  As  a  man,  Hackett  was  of  serious  intellect 
and  of  courteous  bearing.  In  his  yoimger  days,  he 
resembled  Washington  Irving;  in  his  older  days, 
though  less  leonine,  he  was  the  build  of  Fenimore 
Cooper.  There  are  two  interesting  pictures  of  him 
extant :  one  with  a  romantic  dash  about  it ;  the  other 
in  frock  coat  and  beaver,  with  hand  in  the  Webste- 
rian  pose,  indicating  the  dignity  of  the  scholar. 
But  there  is  still  another  picture,  and  it  is  by  this 
that  James  H.  Hackett  is  best  known,  a  picture  of 
sly  humor— a  smile  that  carries  with  it,  even  on 
paper,  the  gentle  shake  of  laughter.  George  William 
Curtis,  with  that  human  discernment  which  charac- 
terized all  his  utterances  in  the  "  Easy  Chair,"  found 
fault  with  the  actor's  playing  of  Falstaff ;  to  him,  the 
conception  was  devoid  of  unctuousness ;  it  was  an 
"acted"  role.  To  him,  Hackett  did  not  seem  closely 
identified  with  it ;  it  was  too  carefully  "studied"  to  be 
natural.  Curtis  liked  the  fat  laugh,  chuckling  away 
into  silence,  or  exploding  in  mere  fun — that  was 
good !  But  he  had  gone  to  see  something  more  than  a 
traditional  Falstaff,  and  he  had  found  hard  moments 
and  dryness  instead.  The  humor  was  too  intellectual, 
the  pose  too  imitatively  reminiscent  of  other  Falstaffs. 
This  is  the  view  taken  by  Mr.  Winter,  who  thought 
the  externals  perfect,  with  the  rimy  fringe  of  whis- 
kers, but  that  Hackett's  merriment  was  tinctured 
with  scorn.  So,  too,  he  painted  with  a  broad  brush, 
caring  nothing  for  detail. 

Even  though  great  emphasis  has  been  laid  upon  the 
stateliness  of  James  H.  Hackett,  he  was  primarily 
a  comedian  and  not  a  tragedian.  With  all  the  slow, 
careful  precision  which  marked  the  heavy  roles  he 
attempted,  he  possessed  reckless  energy,  unbridled 
fun  and  frolic.  There  was  pathos,  too,  and  pictur- 
esque romanticism  in  his  work. 
162 


But  Hackett,  while  having  the  imagination,  could     Wh^ 
not  give  himself  up  to  a  spiritual  fire  which  con-     ^^"'^ 
sumes  the  character  of  Lear;  nor  could  he  subject     i^BCfeCttJJ 
his  acting  to  a  meditative  repose  which  colors  Hamlet. 
His  intellect  saw  things  in  part,  before  it  reached 
the  whole;  his  acting  did  not  come  by  flashes;  it 
came,  like  his  views  on  Shakespeare,  after  careful 
study. 

Two  years  before  his  father's  death,  James  K. 
Hackett  was  bom  at  Wolfe,  one  of  the  Thousand 
Islands  (September  6,  1869).  Throughout  his  school 
and  college  years,  he  showed  his  theatrical  tastes ;  at 
eighteen,  he  had  given  no  mean  interpretation  of 
Touchstone;  at  twenty,  his  Othello  had  met  with 
favorable  comment ;  and  by  the  time  he  left  the  Col- 
lege of  the  City  of  New  York  in  1 891,  his  inclination 
toward  the  drama  was  well  emphasized. 
Curiously,  the  law  claimed  both  father  and  sons  in 
turn.  Recorder  Hackett  has  already  been  mentioned ; 
perhaps  a  father's  influence  schooled  him  to  turn 
away  from  a  profession  that  demanded  such  sacri- 
fices, and  exacted  such  hardships  as  the  actor's  life. 
Young  James  now  applied  himself  to  the  law,  only  to 
find  in  his  turn  that  his  tastes  were  elsewhere.  It  is 
asserted  that  propinquity  has  everything  to  do  with 
the  continuance  of  an  actor-family,  and  some  are 
incUned  to  doubt  the  theory  of  hereditary  genius.  In 
the  case  of  every  player  thus  far  considered,  we  find 
recurrent  aptitudes  in  the  members  of  the  same 
family ;  but  it  is  hard  to  estimate  the  present  genera- 
tion at  close  range,  not  only  on  account  of  its  still 
being  active  on  the  stage,  but  because  external  con- 
ditions of  the  theatre  to-day  are  not  such  as  to  bring 
forth  the  deepest  and  sincerest  work. 
When  James  K.  Hackett  abandoned  the  law  he  went 
to  Philadelphia,  and  on  March  28,  1892,  appeared 
with  J.  H.  Stoddart,  Agnes  Booth,  and  Julia  Arthur 
in  "The  Broken  Seal."  He  was  then  under  the  man- 

163 


tILbC  agement  of  A.  M.  Palmer,  who  had  organized  his  fa- 

lassrltrH-tf    ^'^^^  ^*°^^  company. 

i^aCnCUp  For  a  short  while  following  this,  Mr.  Hackett  was 
leading  man  with  Lotta,and  during  1892-93  he  joined 
the  Augustin  Daly  Company.  In  1893-94,  with  the  dis- 
tinction of  being  one  of  the  youngest  of  the  "stars" 
emanating  from  the  excellent  schools  of  stock  train- 
ing, Mr.  Hackett's  repertoire,  under  the  management 
of  D.  A.  Bonta,  included  "The  Arabian  Nights"  and 
"The  Private  Secretary."  Then  successively  he  sup- 
ported Minnie  SeUgman,  became  leading  man  at  the 
Queen's  Theatre  in  Montreal,  Canada,  and  on  Janu- 
ary 14,  1895,  appeared  at  the  New  York  Broad- 
way Theatre  with  Kathryn  Kidder.  One  more  tem- 
porary engagement  followed  with  Mrs.  James  Brown 
Potter  and  Kyrle  Bellew,  in  "The  Queen's  Neck- 
lace." 

It  was  then,  during  November,  1895,  that  Mr.  Hack- 
ett became  a  member  of  Daniel  Frohman's  stock 
company,  playing  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre,  New 
York,  in  R.  C.  Carton's  "The  Home  Secretary."  The 
young  actor  soon  succeeded  Herbert  Kelcey  as  lead- 
ing man,  and  while  playing  in  Pinero's  "The  Princess 
and  the  Butterfly"  (1897)  he  fell  seriously  ill.  Mr. 
E.  J.  Morgan  took  his  place  temporarily,  but  relin- 
quished it  during  the  run  of  Carton's  "The  Tree  of 
Knowledge." 

On  May  2,  1897,  Mr.  Hackett  married  Miss  Mary 
Mannering,  who  was  a  member  of  the  Lyceum  Com- 
pany. She  belongs  to  an  old  EngUsh  county  family, 
and  made  her  first  appearance  abroad  in  "Hero  and 
Leander."  She  came  to  America  to  appear  in  Es- 
mond's "The  Courtships  of  Leonie"  on  November 
23,  1896,  Mr.  Hackett  assuming  the  chief  male  role. 
In  succession  there  followed  Grundy's  "The  Late  Mr. 
Costello,"  and  Mrs.  F.  H.  Burnett's  "The  First  Gen- 
tleman of  Europe." 
In  1898  Mr.  Hackett  again  became  a  star,  and  his 

164 


MARY    MANNERING 


Ci^e 


wife  was  also  placed  at  the  head  of  her  separate  com- 
pany. 

Miss  Mannering  soon  became  closely  identified  with  IpSCoCttjSi 
the  success  of  Pinero's  "Trelawny  of  the  Wells," 
but  in  the  popular  mind  she  is  more  generally  asso-' 
ciated  with  "Janice  Meredith,"  one  of  the  first  of 
those  dramatizations  of  historical  novels  with  which 
a  pubUc  was  surfeited  during  the  last  decade. 
Since  becoming  a  star  Mr.  Hackett's  plays  have  been 
mostly  of  the  romantic  kind,  typified  by  "The  Pris- 
oner of  Zenda,"  and  "Rupert  of  Hentzau,"  "Don 
Csesar  de  Bazan"  (igoi),  and  "The  Pride  of  Jen- 
nico"  (1900).  He  also  followed  in  the  path  of  the 
dramatized  novel  when  he  presented  Churchill's 
"The  Crisis"  (1902).  Many  will  remember  the  light 
romantic  touch  of  his  Orlando  during  a  special  en- 
gagement, and  also  his  Mercutio  at  the  time  Miss 
Maude  Adams  and  Mr.  WilUam  Faversham  were 
brought  together  in  an  "all-star"  cast  of  "Romeo 
and  Juliet."  The  romantic  note,  devoid  of  broad 
humor  and  of  deep  passion,  but  full  of  gallant  bear- 
ing and  dash — this  has  been  Mr,  Hackett's  chief 
characteristic. 

He  has  inherited  his  father's  managerial  tastes ;  per- 
haps one  of  the  most  emphatic  and  determined  posi- 
tions he  has  yet  taken,  has  been  in  regard  to  the  so- 
called  Theatrical  Trust,  against  which  he  threw  all 
his  energies,  even  as  did  Richard  Mansfield  and  Mrs. 
Fiske.  But  after  a  long  warfare,  he  rejoined  the  ranks 
though  he  still  maintains  an  independent  attitude, 
and  as  manager  of  two  theatres  in  New  York,  the 
Savoy  and  Field's,  he  is  rising  to  an  important  place. 
In  1906  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hackett  appeared  as  co-stars 
in  a  serious  drawing-room  drama,  "The  Walls  of 
Jericho,"  from  the  pen  of  Alfred  Sutro,  who  probably 
is  now  best  known  as  the  English  translator  of  Mau- 
rice Maeterlinck.  It  is  impossible  to  estimate  a  hving 
actor  who  is  still  in  the  growth.  The  Mr.  Hackett  of 

165 


Th^  to-morrow  might  upset  all  theories  that  could  be 

^  framed  about  the  Mr.  Hackett  of  to-day.  He  has  a 

i^^C6Ctt)S(  fine  presence  and  a  rich  voice,  to  which  may  be  added 
romantic  vigor.  He  displays  business  ability,  and  fol- 
lows dramatic  changes  closely.  He  stands  midway — 
to  judge  by  what  he  has  played— between  what  his 
father  was  as  a  scholar  and  what  his  father  was  as  a 
comedian.  There  is  no  definite  classification  to  apply 
to  Mr.  Hackett;  he  has  the  manliness  and  dignity 
for  large  roles ;  to-morrow  may  reveal  the  spiritual 
weight  and  the  intellectual  fire  that,  in  our  actor- 
families,  have  always  emphasized  the  greatest. 


i66 


Vn— THE  DREWS  AND 
THE  BARRYMORES 


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Vn— THE  DREWS  AND 
THE  BARRYMORES 

F  all  the  actor-families  the  Drews, 
through  four  generations,  rep- 
resent most  distinctively  the 
theatre  side.  They  took  root  in 
Great  Britain,  for  the  real  found- 
er of  the  American  branch, 
Louisa  Lane,  was  the  daughter 
of  Thomas  Frederick  Lane,  an 
actor  as  w^ell  as  a  manager  in 
England.  Bom  on  January  lo,  1820  (though  i8i8  is 
confidently  given  elsewhere),  the  little  representative 
of  a  Thespian  mother  and  father  did  not  have  long  to 
wait  before  she  was  on  the  stage.  Mrs.  Lane  carried 
her  on  when  she  was  scarcely  twelve  months  old,  and 
instead  of  turning  red  in  the  face  and  making  the  wel- 
kin ring  with  her  screams,  this  Uttle  mite  only  cooed 
and  crowed  aloud  with  delight,  stretching  out  her 
tiny  arms  toward  an  applauding  multitude. 
In  those  days  America  gathered  her  stage  recruits 
from  EngUsh  companies  by  sending  agents  over  to 
pick  and  choose  the  players.  Among  those  persuaded 
to  turn  ocean  ward  in  1827  were  Mrs.  Lane  and 
Louisa.  The  latter  was  now  a  girl  of  seven,  and  en 
route  to  the  port  she  stopped  at  a  theatre  in  Liver- 
pool to  delight  an  audience  as  Agib  in  "Timour  the 
Tartar."  Then  began  a  four  weeks'  passage  on  a 
packet-ship. 

So  we  see  that  there  was  no  time  lost  in  the  begin- 
nings of  this  actress.  What  did  she  do  for  an  educa- 
tion? 

"I  studied  my  profession,  .  .  ."  she  wrote,  "but  that 
was  about  all  my  school  days  consisted  of — just  one 
quarter  in  London  when  I  was  a  very  little  girl,  and  a 
few  months  of  attendance  at  a  school  in  Baltimore. 
Aside  from  that,  I  have  absorbed  what  general  infor- 
mation I  possess — I  have  learned  my  lessons  from 
experience  and  from  the  open  book  of  life." 

169 


It  is  not  surprising  therefore  to  find  that  almost  im- 
mediately on  landing  in  New  York,  Louisa  Lane  hast- 
ened to  Philadelphia  with  her  mother  where,  at  the 
Walnut  Street  Theatre  on  September  26,  1827,  she 
made  her  American  d6but  as  the  Duke  of  York  to 
Junius  Brutus  Booth's  Richard  III.  By  this  time  her 
father  had  died,  and  it  was  not  long  before  her  mother 
was  married  to  John  Kinlock,  stage-manager  at  the 
Philadelphia  theatre. 

This  first  engagement  of  Louisa  Lane  filled  the  child's 
mind  with  indelible  impressions.  Very  often  in  after- 
years  she  referred  to  Booth's  beautiful  reading,  and 
she  told  Francis  Wilson  toward  the  close  of  her  life 
that  it  was  "idiosyncratic." 

"The  performance  of  the  elder  Booth  as  Richard,"  she 
wrote  in  her  "Autobiography,"  "made  a  most  powerful 
impression  upon  me.  His  dramatic  force  and  mag- 
netism were  like  a  giant  whirlwind  sweeping  all  be- 
fore it.  I  have  never  seen  any  one  else  in  that  part  who 
seemed  so  completely  to  realize  it  as  he  did." 


But  her  stay  with  him  was  only  a  short  one.  In  1828 
she  made  her  first  appearance  in  New  York  at  the 
Old  Bowery  (March  3d),  three  months  afterward 
moving  to  the  Park,  which  was  the  rival  theatre. 
For  some  time  Miss  Lane  was  destined  to  wander 
from  town  to  town,  now  in  Baltimore,  supporting 
Forrest  in  "William  Tell,"  during  which  trip,  being 
regarded  as  a  prodigy,  she  was  decorated  by  the 
great  actor  with  a  special  medal ;  again  playing  Dr. 
Pangloss  with  spirit  and  humor  (January,  1829), 
Joseph  Jefferson's  grandfather  being  in  the  cast  with 
her;  and  still  again  during  this  year  touring  the 
South  and  the  West.  A  critic  witnessing  her  Pangloss 
came  away  marvelling  and  declaring  it  "the  best 
since  the  days  of  Twaits,  yet  at  the  same  time  he 
never  produced  half  the  effect." 
Pronounced  precociousness  was  the  marked  charac- 
170 


r  Evenings 


j,/od  lines. 

:es  o|  various  kinds  on  white 
I  id  girdle  in  solid  color. 


SIDNEY  DREW 

AVell -known  actor,  who  died  today 
in  New  York  after  a  short  illness. 


E 


itiona.'ly   Popular  Star  of 
Footlights  and  Film  Dead 
of  Uremia 


>or.  Market) 


is  Is  Green 
i  Delightful 

all  its  charm  and  daintiness. 
This  is  a  clafes  of  furniture 
which  pays  a  double  debt  of 
usefulness.  It  is  pre-emi- 
nently the  living-room  furni- 
ture for  hot  weather ;  and  it 
is  porch  furniture  of  the 
finest  type.  This  collection 
is  particularly  riqh  in  three- 
piece  living-room  suits, 
starting  from  $81. 

All  the  other  favorite 
kinds  of  summer  furniture 
are  here  — hardy  hickory, 
maple  pieces  so  practical  and 
inexpensive  and  in  different 
finishes ;  also  fiber,  rush  and 
crex  pieces,  making  up  a  dis- 
play which  we  believe  is 
large  apid  meritorious  be- 
yond comparison. 


^\S       FAVORITE       HERE 


|?uiet).v  ns  lie  lived,  with  n  Inst  faint 
dow  of  hiK  famous   wliitnsirni   sinilo. 
ncv    Drew,    hesf    Ix-lovcd    i>irlinit«    of 
'f  IMiilnd('li)liin'M  ilraimiti''  an<l   film 
fes.  died  in  his  liomo  in  New  York  | 
IliH  wife,  InKcimrahle  fr<>m  him 
world  of  make-helieve,  was  with 

-<    ill-   (lii-d  ' 


Sidney  Drew  Dies; 
Was  Noted  A  do 


teristic  of  this  child  of  nine.  She  played  seven  parts  in   "^1)0    J^tCtDJJ 
"Winning  a  Husband,"  five  parts  in  "72  Piccadilly,"         j.    ^•u.f^ 
and  six  parts  in  "An  Actress  of  All  Work."  On  a   auO    ^\)K 
Chestnut  Street  Theatre  programme,  dated  January    'BaittVtllOtCSJ 
9,  1829,  and  again  including  a  number  of  the  Jefifer- 
son  family,  the  farce-piece  of  the  evening  was  called 
"The  Four  Mowbrays,"  and  had  the  following  dram- 
atis personae : 

Matilda  Mowbray Miss  Lane ! 

Master  Hector  Mowbray Miss  Lane!! 

Master  Gobbleton  Mowbray Miss  Lane  I ! ! 

Master  Foppington  Mowbray Miss  Lane ! ! ! ! 

Hardly  a  moment  passed  that  this  slip  of  a  girl  was/ 
not  either  dancing  or  playing  or  singing  her  way 
from  State  to  State — a  rigorous,  unfortimate  circum- 
stance— for  though  it  gave  her  surety,  though  her 
fame  was  spreading  by  reason  of  the  cleverness  of  her 
juvenile  roles,  the  life  deprived  her  of  all  the  telling 
restraint  a  child  should  have.  So  very  youthful  was 
she  that,  as  an  incentive  to  the  of  ttimes  lagging  spir- 
its, she  had  to  be  promised  rewards  of  candy  toward 
the  close  of  many  an  evening's  work. 
It  must  have  been  before  1830,  though  Mrs.  Drew 
mentioned  no  specific  time,  that  Andrew  Jackson, 
then  President  of  the  United  States,  seeing  her  at  an 
oflacial  levee  in  Washington,  called  her  "a  very 
pretty  little  girl."  "Need  I  say,"  she  commented, 
"that  I  was  a  Jackson  Democrat  from  that  hour,  and 
have  remained  one  up  to  date?"  So,  too,  it  may  have 
been  here  that  she  was  awed  by  the  fascinating 
beauty  of  Fanny  Kemble,  who  was  present  with  her 
father. 

From  1829,  when  she  received  her  first  benefit,  play- 
ing Pangloss,  to  1836,  her  activity  was  constant. 
In  April,  1830,  she  acted  in  "Richard  II,"  at  a  thea- 
tre in  New  Orleans,  and  then  shortly  after  set  sail, 
under  Mr.  Kinlock's  management,  with  a  company 

171 


, 


'C-l^C    jDfCuJP  bound  for  Jamaica.  Shipwreck  overtook  them  near 
{\\\T\    '^hr  ^^  Domingo;  for  six  weeks  they  were  forced  to 

^  camp,  unable  to  get  to  the  city;  but  when  finally  the 

QoSVV^UlOtCjSJ  belated  strollers  reached  their  destination,  they 
found  favorable  reception.  Misfortune  here  awaited 
them,  however,  in  another  form.  Mr.  Kinlock  and 
baby,  stricken  with  yellow  fever,  both  died,  and  the 
mother  and  daughter,  thus  bereft,  and  further  hast- 
ened by  rumors  of  an  insurrection,  returned  to 
America. 
^^  But  though  she  was  becoming  a  favorite  in  the  public 
regard,  Louisa  Lane's  advance  was  slow;  it  meant 
work,  and  as  we  are  prone  to  laud  a  self-made  man 
in  the  business  world,  here  in  the  process  of  develop- 
ment we  find  a  type  of  the  self-made  player.  She  had 
to  endure  all  the  privations  and  hardships  of  travel 
and  change,  but  she  was  never  long  without  an  en- 
gagement. Her  next  move  was  to  hasten  to  the  Phil- 
adelphia Arch  Street  Theatre,  where,  under  the  man- 
agement of  William  Forrest,  a  brother  of  Edwin,  she 
played  with  James  E.  Murdoch;  then  we  read  of  her 
making  another  trip  to  the  West  Indies,  where  she 
was  again  wrecked.  In  1833,  when  only  thirteen,  she 
was  playing  small  parts  at  the  Bowery  Theatre  in 
New  York,  in  such  pieces  as  "The  Wife"  and  "Ma- 
zeppa." 

When  she  went  to  Boston,  her  stay  was  made  at  the 
Warren  Theatre,  where  she  and  her  mother  were 
paid  a  weekly  and  joint  salary  of  sixteen  dollars. 
After  this  Miss  Lane  proceeded  to  Halifax,  where 
she  saw  "a  good  deal  of  human  nature,  ...  all  the 
petty  strife  of  real  actors  without  their  ability."  Her 
roles  were  growing  in  importance,  for  later,  at  the  St. 
Charles  Theatre  in  New  Orleans,  she  played  Maria  in 
"The  School  for  Scandal"  with  Murdoch,  George 
Holland,  Henry  Hunt,  Mrs.  Maeder  and  Miss  De- 
Bar  in  the  cast ;  here  also  they  supported  Charlotte 
Cushman.  Finally,  after  her  marriage,  when  she 
172 


toured  the  South,  she  was  assigned  the  lead  in  her 
company,  playing  Pauline  in  "The  Lady  of  Lyons." 
The  year  1836  found  Louisa  Lane  married  to  Henry 
Blaine  Hunt,  an  Enghsh  tenor,  who  had  come  to 
America  in  1828,  "a  nice  actor,"  so  she  described 
him,  "and  a  very  handsome  man  of  forty."  He  won 
notice  as  Francis  Osbaldistone  in  Pocock's  "Rob 
Roy"  and  as  Harry  Bertram  in  a  dramatization  of 
"Guy  Mannering."  His  dash,  his  spirit,  his  attrac- 
tive presence  had  in  early  years  gained  him  a  much- 
coveted  place  among  the  fast  set  which  George  IV 
had  assembled  around  the  throne.  So  that  when  he 
found  himself  a  married  man,  his  nature  was  no  more 
trained  than  v/as  that  of  Louisa  Lane's  for  the 
mutual  duties  imposed  upon  them. 
They  played  together  continually  and  were  both  at 
the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre  when  Mrs.  Hunt  assumed 
the  roles  of  Beatrice  and  Ophelia,  and  acted  with 
Tyrone  Power.  So,  too,  did  she  appear  at  the  Walnut 
Street  Theatre,  where  she  received  during  the  season 
of  1839-40  a  weekly  stipend  of  twenty  dollars,  which 
was  then  considered  a  very  large  salary— the  highest 
thus  far  paid  at  that  theatre  to  a  single  person. 
While  her  best-remembered  parts  were  types  in  the 
rare  old  EngUsh  comedies,  Mrs.  Hunt  now  played 
Lady  Macbeth  in  the  support  of  Forrest,  and  around 
1839  her  performance  of  Desdemona  is  recorded.  She 
was  closely  identified  with  Philadelphia,  the  three 
chief  theatres— the  Arch,  the  Walnut,  and  the  Chest- 
nut— claiming  her  attention  at  different  times.  She 
also  continued  to  travel,  and  one  evening  while  at 
Pittsburg,  during  a  performance  of  "London  Assur- 
ance," the  piece  was  given,  according  to  her  de- 
scription, "with  a  degree  of  excellence  unheard  of 
in  that  vicinity."  The  curtain  rose  on  one  scene 
wherein  was  displayed  a  real  fountain  of  water,  and 
the  audience  marvelled  much,  exclaiming  further 
over  a  room  on  the  stage  having  carpet  and  mirror 

173 


and  Cl^e 
'Barrtmorejs 


"CljC    IDVCWjEJ   s^d  furniture  —a  degree  of  realism  new  to  the  thea- 

flUD    <^i)C  Iq  Baltimore,  during  one  summer,  Mrs.  Hunt  with 

15flVrVniOrC!3    °°'y  three  or  four  actors  assisting  her,  ventured  to 
'^  present  a  series  of  short  plays,  and  the  management 

was  conducted  on  an  old  principle :  after  each  per- 
formance -and  there  were  many  successful  nights — 
the  little  band,  in  imitation  of  Molifere  and  his  court 
mummers,  would  gather  around  a  table  and  divide 
whatever  profits  there  might  happen  to  be.  Mrs.  Hunt 
had  with  her  at  this  time  her  step-sister,  Georgia 
Kanlock;  she  it  was  who,  on  these  doubtful  even- 
ings, would  station  herself  by  the  peephole  of  the 
curtain  and  report  the  state  of  the  audience  which 
filled  the  house  slowly  enough  to  give  the  actors 
qualms  and  varied  misgivings. 

Around  this  period  of  her  career  also,  Mrs.  Hunt  be- 
came associated  with  J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  who  was 
acting  in  a  repertoire  composed  of  both  comedy  and 
tragedy.  Then  followed  her  engagement  with  Ma- 
cready.  "[He]  was  a  dreadful  man  to  act  with,  .  .  .'* 
she  wrote.  "He  would  press  you  down  with  his  hand 
on  your  head  and  tell  you  in  an  undertone  to  stand 
up!" 

In  1846  Mrs.  Hunt  played  at  the  Old  Bowery  in  "The 
Love  Chase,"  with  E.  L.  Davenport,  who  was  taking 
a  benefit,  and  in  1847,  while  on  tour,  she  was  seen  in 
the  role  of  Rosalind.  Among  the  curiosities  of  the 
American  stage  may  be  considered  her  performance, 
01  January  26,  1847,  of  Romeo,  at  the  Park  Theatre, 
New  York,  to  the  Juliet  of  Ada  Stetson,  and  not  con- 
tent apparently  with  a  romantic  role,  she  tried  an  even 
more  masculine  one  in  the  shape  of  Marc  Antony. 
V/ith  such  a  life  as  they  were  leading,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising to  record  that  around  1847  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hunt  were  granted  a  separation.  In  1848  she  mar- 
'^  ried  again  — George  Mossop,  who  was  an  Irish  singer 
and  comedian  and  whose  chief  distinction  lay  in  the 

174 


MRS     DREW,    AS    MRS.    MALAPROP 


fact  that  though  he  stuttered  terribly  when  off  the 
stage,  just  as  soon  as  he  went  on,  the  impediment 
ceased.  But  the  actress  was  a  widow  on  October  8, 

1849.  She  went  to  the  Albany  Museum  during  that 
year,  and  there  she  first  met  John  Drew,  who  was  a 
member  of  the  same  company.  The  couple  were  mar- 
ried on  July  27,  1850. 

The  year  Jefferson  made  his  first  appearance  as  Jim 
Crow— that  is,  during  1833— John  Drew,  the  young 
Irish  comedian,  was  brought  to  America  from  Dub- 
hn.  He  was  bom  on  September  3,  1827.  This  date 
is  selected  in  preference  to  1825  and  1828,  which 
are  given  in  many  accounts,  because  of  three  facts 
that  likewise  find  record:  one  is  that  he  came  to 
America  when  six  years   of  age ;   another  that  in 

1850,  when  he  was  married,  he  was  only  twenty- 
three  ;  and  still  another  that  at  his  death  he  was 
but  thirty-five.  By  profession  his  father  was  a  piano- 
maker.  Spending  the  greater  part  of  his  boyhood  in 
Buffalo,  young  Drew,  showing  some  inclination  for 
the  sea,  was  apprenticed  to  a  whaler,  and  started  on 
a  three  years'  cruise,  but  not  liking  the  captain,  he 
waited  his  opportunity,  and  one  day  he  turned  with 
sudden  decision,  shipping  secretly  on  a  Liverpool 
packet.  No  sooner  landed  than  he  looked  about  for 
an  engagement  at  some  theatre. 

As  to  his  first  New  York  appearance,  there  is  a  casual 
mention  of  his  having  played  at  Richmond  Hill 
Theatre  on  Greenwich  Street,  and  then  of  his  having 
proceeded  to  Rochester.  But  1845  is  the  more  definite 
date,  and  during  that  year  he  made  his  d€but  as  Dr. 
O'Toole,  in  "The  Irish  Tutor,"  at  the  Bowery  Thea- 
tre, New  York. 

After  their  marriage  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Drew  acted  in 
Chicago  and  Buffalo,  and  in  the  summer  of  1850, 
while  at  Niblo's  Garden  (New  York)  their  company 
included  Lester  Waliack,  Joseph  Jefferson,  W.  R. 
Blake  and  his  wife. 

175 


Cl)c  ®retD0 
anti  €:i3e 
l3art^tttore)S 


€llC    1DVC\U0    ^^  ^^^^  ^^-  ^"^  ■^^^"  ^^^^  went  to  the  Chestnut 
'      ^  Street  Theatre,  and  then  to  the  Arch,  which  came 

flUD    VLI)C  uiier  the  management  of  Wheatley  and  Drew  on 

'V^arrtnrinrrrt  Aa^ust  20,  1853.  Here  it  v.^as  that  they  played  in 
4:HIHH»^'^»'^  Gibber's  "She  Would  and  She  Would  Not,"  with  a 
supporting  company  in  which  John  Gilbert  and  John 
Sleeper  Clarke  were  members;  here  also  on  the  even- 
ing of  October  10,  1854,  "Shakespeare's  Peculiar  and 
Popular  Comedy  of  Errors"  was  presented,  played  by 
William  Wheatley,  John  Drew,  Frank  Drew  (his 
brother),  Mrs.  John  Drew,  and  Mrs.  Kinlock;  in  the 
farce  that  followed  on  the  programme,  called  "  Satan 
in  Paris!"  Miss  Georgia  Kinlock  figured. 
The  superabundant  fun  of  these  comedians  had  ample 
outlet  in  the  good-humored  play  of  Shakespeare's. 
Wheatley  and  an  actor  named  Shewell  were  the 
Antipholes,  John  and  Frank  Drew  the  Dromios. 
Throughout  the  evening  the  audience  was  kept  in  a 
quandary  as  to  who  was  who.  The  twin  brothers  of 
high  degree  were  constantly  confused  and  a  close 
scrutiny  was  all  that  kept  them  individualized.  But 
in  the  case  of  the  two  Dromios,  it  was  impossible  to 
distinguish  them.  Hackett  and  Barnes  met  success 
in  these  roles,  but  it  was  the  former  who  imitated 
the  latter.  Here,  with  John  and  Frank  Drew,  there 
was  mutual  imitation.  They  were  dressed  alike,  their 
manner  was  alike,  and  they  looked  alike.  When  they 
came  upon  the  stage,  they  played  with  the  audience, 
sUpping  at  will  from  one  part  to  the  other.  Now  John 
Drew  was  Dromio  of  Ephesus,  and  his  brother, 
Dromio  of  Syracuse.  Then,  when  the  audience  felt 
confident  they  knew  which  was  which,  the  two 
would  change  places,  and  John  Drew  would  be- 
come Dromio  of  Syracuse,  while  his  brother  was 
Dromio  of  Ephesus.  Even  Wheatley  and  Shewell 
found  it  hard  to  follow  the  antics  of  these  two.  Un- 
certainty behind  the  scenes  was  just  as  great.  John 
Drew  would  tell  a  funny  story  in  a  way  to  make  the 
176 


actors  and  scene-shifters  believe  they  were  listen- 
ing to  Frank.  Even  "bets  were  made  amongst  cer- 
tain of  the  audience"  runs  the  account,  "as  to  when 
John  was  on  or  Frank  was  off ;  the  brothers  would 
hear  of  these  wagers,  change  their  scenes,  and  the 
betters  were  deceived." 

For  two  seasons  John  Drew  retained  his  interest  in 
the  theatre;  but  in  1857  he  started  on  a  touring  ex- 
pedition, sailing  shortly  for  England  with  his  mother- 
in-law.  John  Sleeper  Clarke  succeeded  him  in  the  , 
management  of  the  house,  and  the  company  that  was 
assembled  proved  to  be  the  best  ever  gathered  to- 
gether, so  far  as  organization  was  concerned. 
Mrs.  Drew  meanwhile  was  filling  time  at  the  Walnut, 
and  here  it  was  that  her  husband  came,  after  a  very 
short  absence.  By  his  presence  he  materially 
strengthened  the  stock  company,  Mrs.  Drew  after- 
ward appeared  in  "The  Octoroon"  and  "Our  Amer- 
ican Cousin,"  playing  Lady  Gay  Spanker  with  spirit 
and  dash.  To  a  rather  large  repertoire  she  was  con- 
tinually adding  new  pieces. 

Soon  there  began  a  long  period  of  travel  for  Johnj/ 
Drew.  Between  1858  and  1862  he  played  in  Cali- 
fornia, Australia,  and  England,  returning  to  America 
some  while  after  Mrs.  Drew  had  assumed  control  of 
the  Arch  Street  Theatre.  This  event  had  taken  place 
on  August  3,  1861 ;  she  was  the  first  woman  in 
America  to  enter  the  field  of  theatrical  management 
on  so  large  a  scale. 

During  the  first  season  of  her  venture,  the  old  build- 
ing having  been  altered  in  arrangements,  and  greatly 
enriched  in  decorations,  Mrs.  Drew  appeared  in  forty- 
two  roles,  but  financially  she  was  not  making  a  suc- 
cess. Her  husband  found  such  to  be  the  case  on  his 
arrival;  for  a  second  time  he  filled  the  breach  and 
began  a  long  engagement  there  for  one  hundred 
nights,  presenting  "The  Road  to  Ruin,"  "The  Irish 
Emigrant,"  and  "London  Assurance"  among  other 

177 


l3atrtmorej3 


"^l^C    ?DVCtDJ2l    plays.  His  last  appearance  occurred  on  May  9,  1862 ; 

w     T^i^p  twelve  days  after,  he  died. 

ilUO    dji  /^  distinguishing  note  in  the  "Autobiography"  of 

CBflVVVUlOrCJJ    ^^s.  Drew  is  its  blunt  directness.  Her  candid  opinion 

was  devoid  of  any  emotional  uncertainty.  We  find 

her  estimate  of  John  Drew  peculiarly  impersonal, 

almost  unfeeling  in  its  aim  to  be  just.  She  wrote : 

I  don't  think  there  are  many  persons  surviving  him 
now  who  remember  him  well,  and  he  was  worth  re- 
membering; one  of  the  best  actors  I  ever  saw  in  a  long 
.'  list  of  the  most  varied  description.  Had  he  lived  to  be 

forty-five,  he  would  have  been  a  great  actor.  But  too 
early  a  success  was  his  ruin.  Why  should  he  study  when 
he  was  assured  on  all  sides  (except  my  own)  that  he  was 
as  near  perfection  as  was  possible  for  a  man  to  be. 

John  Drew,  Sr.,  was  rather  short  in  stature,  being  of 
slender  build  and  with  plain  but  jovial  expression. 
He  was  very  adaptable,  and  could  be  easily  ap- 
proached ;  he  had  a  pleasant  word  for  every  one.  His 
equipment  as  an  actor  consisted  in  a  rich  voice  and  a 
quick,  sympathetic  humor.  His  characters  of  Handy 
Andy  and  Sir  Lucius  0 'Trigger  were  preeminent; 
there  was  charm  in  his  Goldfinch  in  "The  Road  to 
Ruin,"  and  his  Meddle  in  "London  Assurance"  was 
surpassing  sly.  His  O'Bryan  in  "The  Irish  Emi- 
grant" was  so  perfect  in  its  reality  that  one  found 
it  hard  to  cease  identifying  the  role  with  the  actor. 
John  Brougham  wrote  the  play  and  had  himself  won 
some  distinction  when  he  appeared  in  the  part;  but 
after  seeing  John  Drew  in  it.  Brougham  came  away 
determined  never  to  try  it  himself  again.  Jefferson 
recorded : 

He  [Drew]  acted  a  star  engagement  under  my  manage- 
ment in  Richmond,  Virginia,  in  1856,  appearing  in  a 
round  of  Irish  characters  with  marked  success.  ...  I 
think  it  has  been  generally  conceded  that  since  Tyrone 
Power,  there  has  been  no  Irish  comedian  equal  to  John 
Drew.  Power,  as  a  light  and  brilliant  actor,  with  piefc- 

178 


ing  eyes,  elegant  carriage,  and  polished  "school,"  daz- 
zling his  audiences  like  a  comet,  was  undoubtedly  un- 
paralleled in  his  line,  but  I  doubt  if  he  could  touch  the 
heart  as  deeply  as  did  John  Drew. 

He  was  withal  versatile,  which  criticisms  declare 
Power  was  not,  for  the  latter  besides  limiting  his  roles, 
colored  them  all  too  highly  for  nature.  Perhaps  the 
best  idea  of  Drew's  acting  may  be  gleaned  from  Ben- 
jamin G.  Rogers,  who  wrote : 

Blessed  with  a  joyous  spirit  and  a  fine  flavor  of  native 
wit,  sharpened  by  a  quick  appreciation  of  the  ludicrous 
in  the  faults,  fashion,  or  humor  of  the  times,  added  to  a 
power  of  portraying  the  absurdities  or  peculiarities  of 
human  nature  in  their  most  ridiculous  forms,  aided  by 
a  nice  discrimination  of  the  point  of  a  witticism  or  sar- 
casm, Mr.  John  Drew  was  enabled  to  present  comic  char- 
acters in  their  most  laughable  and  enjoyable  coloring, 
which  showed  him  a  comedian  of  more  than  ordinary 
ability.  In  characters  of  the  serio-comic,  inclined  to  the 
sentimental,  he  infused  a  body  and  depth  of  feeling  very 
few  comedians  could  equal.  In  the  change  from  the 
comic  to  the  pathetic,  he  was  at  his  best.  With  the  dis- 
cernment of  a  true  artist,  Mr.  Drew  applied  himself  to 
the  requirements  of  old  legitimate  comedies,  with  a 
truthfulness  of  study,  and  an  untiring  research  as  to  the 
spirit  or  purpose  of  a  character  that  enabled  him  to 
present  them  with  an  individuality  marked  and  effec- 
tive." 

If  John  Drew  was  versatile,  his  brother  Frank  was 
more  so,  for  in  his  life-time  of  seventy-two  years,  he 
acted  in  no  less  than  one  thousand  plays.  He  too  was 
bom  in  Dublin,  on  October  29,  1831,  and  was  looked 
upon  as  a  child  prodigy,  when  scarcely  able  to  walk. 
During  his  experiences  in  America  he  passed  succes- 
sively under  the  management  of  both  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Drew,  and  then  in  England  (1863),  played  with 
success  in  "The  Irish  Emigrant."  He  was  married  in 
1850  to  a  Mrs.  C.  L.  Stone,  and  had  two  sons,  Frank, 
who  became  a  manager,  and  John  E.,  who  was  him- 
self a  comedian  of  mediocre  ability. 

179 


QSarr^morejs 


^^arrv1uorc0 


\^ 


Under  Mrs.  Drew's  management  the  Arch  Street 
Theatre  became  "a  dramatic  thermometer."  Here  she 
brought  Wallack,  Davenport,  Booth,  Charlotte  Cush- 
man,  Lotta,  F.  F.  Mackay,  Louis  James,  Stuart  Rob- 
son,  and  Fanny  Davenport ;  here  it  was  possible  for 
those  of  moderate  means*  to  witness  "star"  casts  on 
all  occasions;  instance  a  playbill  for  "Othello"  with 
E.  L.  Davenport,  J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  and  Mrs.  Farren 
acting  together.  There  was  constant  variety,  con- 
stant change,  and  those  who  were  permanent  mem- 
bers of  the  Drew  Stock  Company  were  trained  in  a 
system  of  exacting  but  invigorating  methods.  On 
March  13,  1863,  a  performance  of  "Macbeth"  is  re- 
corded with  J.  Wilkes  Booth  as  the  Thane  and  Frank 
Drew  as  the  Second  Witch.  Here  likewise  Mrs.  Waller 
gave  her  feminine  portrayal  of  Hamlet. 
So  long  as  the  house  held  to  a  stock  system,  it  might 
be  called  successful.  But  modern  conditions  began 
to  encroach  upon  the  old  order,  and  combination 
houses  were  being  looked  upon  favorably,  becoming 
more  thoroughly  established  with  the  improved  facil- 
ities for  travel  which  allowed  companies  to  move 
rapidly  from  place  to  place.  Mrs.  Drew  could  not 
stem  the  tide  of  change;  in  1877-78  the  Arch  Street 
Theatre  was  turned  into  a  combination  house,  and 
thereafter  dropped  off  in  its  receipts,  though  still 
continuing  to  assemble  brilliant  players  in  the  casts. 
Mrs.  Drew,  during  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century,  was 
placed  in  an  eddy  of  new  ideas  seeking  to  adjust 
themselves.  While  the  theatre  has  always  been  a  busi- 
ness, more  or  less,  it  was  not  organized  on  so  large  a 
scale  in  those  early  days;  there  was  a  more  even 
proportion  maintained  between  art  and  the  commer- 
cial side ;  salaries,  while  generous,  were  not  such  as  to 

*  During  her  regime,  despite  the  fact  that  for  one  season 
the  rent  was  ?6,2oo,  Mrs.  Drew  kept  the  box-office  prices 
at  low  range :  dress  circle,  37!  cents;  parquette,  50  cents; 
family  circle,  25  cents;  and  amphitheatre,  15  cents. 

180 


JOHN    DREVV 


make  it  impossible  to  bring  together  players  of  the 
same  ability,  except  on  much-flaunted  and  rare 
occasions.  Mrs.  Drew  understood  too  plainly  v/hat 
all  this  restiveness  meant.  It  was  with  some  bitter- 
ness that  she  held  out  against  other  houses  where 
the  fashion  of  having  matinees  had  been  lately  culti- 
vated. Then  finally  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  was 
obliged  to  succumb. 

Around  1889  a  testimonial  was  given  to  Murdoch 
during  which  a  three-act  version  of  "The  School  for 
Scandal"  was  performed ;  this  actor  played  Charles ; 
young  John  Drew,  Joseph ;  George  Holland,  Sir  Peter ; 
and  Mrs.  Drew,  Lady  Teazle.  While  such  activity 
was  going  on  inside  this  one  particular  playhouse, 
Mrs.  Drew,  despite  her  work  as  manager,  began  her 
association  with  Joseph  Jefferson  in  1880,  which 
was  to  last  through  eleven  seasons,  and  in  "The 
Rivals"  to  include  for  some  time,  W.  J.  Florence. 
"Every  season  was  a  happy  one,"  she  wrote;  "the 
latter  part  of  the  time  Mr.  Jefiferson  was  busy  on  his 
delightful  autobiography,  and  used  occasionally  to 
read  it  to  us." 

In  1892  Mrs.  Drew  not  only  gave  up  active  charge  of 
the  Arch  Street  Theatre,  but  also  resigned  her  post 
as  one  of  the  board  of  directors.  Her  last  acted  role 
in  Philadelphia,  where  she  had  spent  such  a  large  part 
of  her  professional  life,  was  that  of  the  Widow  Green 
in  "The  Love  Chase,"  given  during  the  week  begin- 
ning May  2,  1892.  A  successful  testimonial  preceded 
her  removal  to  New  York — a  change  that  meant  the 
uprooting  of  strong  associations  which  had  extend- 
ed over  thirty-two  years.  By  now  also  Mrs.  Drew 
had  arrived  at  the  advanced  age  when  a  "new"  be- 
ginning would  be  difficult  to  accompUsh.  She  was  a 
veteran  actress,  the  larger  part  of  whose  work 
was  accomplished ;  not  the  better  part,  for  she  re- 
tained her  powers  to  the  end,  and  in  1896,  when  she 
v/as  a  member  of  a  noteworthy  "all-star"  cast  of 

i3: 


anu  Ci^e 
OBarr^morejJ 


ClK    ir^t'r\ll|Gl     "The  Rivals"  her  vigor  was  unabated,  her  youth- 
flllll    (The  ^"'  aptitude  for  comedy  and  her  quick  eye  for  effect 

'  were  still  the  same.  That  company  included :  W.  H. 

15(irrVinOVCj2^  crane  as  Sir  Anthony  Absolute;  Robert  Taber  as 
Captain  Absolute ;  Joseph  Holland  as  Falkland ;  Jef- 
ferson as  Bob  Acres ;  E.  M.  Holland  as  Fag ;  Fran- 
cis Wilson  as  David;  Julia  Marlowe  as  Lydia  Lan- 
guish; Fanny  Rice  as  Lucy;  and  Mrs.  Drew  as 
Malaprop. 

The  younger  generation  was  thus  brought  within 
close  range  of  two  pioneers  whose  memory  stretched 
far  back  to  the  greatest,  themselves  surpassing  good. 
They  also  are  tradition  now — tradition,  a  word  rep- 
resenting the  sum  total  of  all  those  high  moments 
when  interpretation  comes  by  flashes,  whether  of 
brilliancy  or  intensity. 

Mrs.  Drew,  when  she  became  settled  in  her  new  home, 
was  at  first  managed  by  her  adopted  son,  Sidney 
Drew  (chiefly  known  to  the  vaudeville  stage),  and 
then  she  passed  under  the  management  of  Charles 
Frohman,  acting  intermittently,  and  spending  a  large 
part  of  her  time  with  her  son  John.  Her  last  role  was 
in  "The  Sporting  Duchess,"  January,  1897.  She  died 
at  Larchmont,  New  York,  on  August  31st  of  the  same 
year. 

On  reviewing  the  long  life  of  Mrs.  John  Drew,  the 
wide  range  of  her  work  shows  her  to  have  been  one 
of  quick  insight  and  apt  interpretation.  Her  Lady 
Teazle  and  her  Malaprop  were  her  best  creations,  and 
her  Peg  Wofiington,  her  Lady  Gay,  her  Dot,  and  her 
Lydia  Languish  were  superior.  She  arrived  off-hand  at 
the  most  original  conceptions  and  was  never  known 
to  suggest  without  enriching  thereby.  She  could  af- 
ford, at  rehearsal,  to  turn  her  attention  to  others,  for 
she  was  never  seen  at  the  theatre  with  the  book  of  the 
play  in  her  hands;  she  was  always  "letter  perfect" 
at  the  first  assembling  of  the  company.  Sometimes 
her  work  was  described  as  the  very  "quintessence  of 
182 


comedy,"  for  her  reading  was  wellnigh  flawless  and 
her  intuition  remarkably  sure.  Clara  Morris's  pen- 
portrait  of  Mrs.  Drew  is  vivid : 

What  a  handsome,  masterful  young  creature  she  must 
have  been  in  the  days  when  she  was  playing  the  dash- 
ing Lady  Gay,  the  tormenting  Lady  Teazle,  and  all 
that  swarm  of  arrant  coquettes!  Her  high  features, 
her  air  of  gentle  breeding,  the  touch  of  hauteur  in  her 
manner,  must  have  given  the  same  zest  to  the  admi- 
ration of  her  lovers  that  the  faint  nip  of  frost  in  the 
autumn  air  gives  to  the  torpid  blood.  And,  good  heav- 
ens! what  an  amount  of  work  fell  to  the  lot  of  the 
stately  gentlewoman!  .  .  .  She  was  always  a  wonderful 
disciplinarian;  hers  was  said  to  be  the  last  of  those 
greenrooms  that  used  to  be  considered  schools  of  good 
manners.  Some  women  descend  to  bullying  to  maintain 
their  authority — not  so  Mrs.  John  Drew.  Her  armor 
was  a  certain  chill  austerity  of  manner,  her  weapon  a 
sharp  sarcasm,  while  her  strength  lay  in  her  self-con- 
trol, her  self-respect." 

But  this  armor  of  impenetrable  sternness  had  its 
vulnerable  spot.  To  her  activity  in  the  world  of  affairs 
she  added  what  her  son  referred  to  as  the  gentleness 
and  loving  kindness  of  a  mother. 
Three  of  Mrs.  Drew's  children  went  on  the  stage,  but 
the  family  mantle  descended  upon  John,  whom  his 
mother  regarded  with  special  pride.  He  was  born  in 
Philadelphia  on  November  13,  1853,  and  received  his 
education  at  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Academy  of 
that  city.  He  gave  up  all  ideas  of  a  university  train- 
ing and  on  March  23,  1873,  joined  his  mother's  stock 
company,  having  just  returned  from  a  trip  abroad. 
His  first  role  was  Plumper,  in  "Cool  as  a  Cucumber." 
Mr.  Drew  has  always  been  reticent  in  his  public  ut- 
terances. Excepting  a  short  foreword  to  his  mother's 
book,  and  two  articles  in  magazines,  no  retrospect 
is  to  be  found  from  his  pen  to  mark  these  early  days ; 
he  once  wrote: 

There  is  less  muscular  exertion  about  the  actor's 
work  to-day  than  there  was  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago, 

183 


'Barr^moreie; 


,/ 


aiiD  iHDc 
loarrvmorejs 


v^ 


but  in  other  respects  it  has  grown  more  arduous.  When, 
at  the  age  of  nineteen,  I  stepped  upon  the  stage  from 
surroundings  where  the  dramatic  traditions  were  pre- 
served and  disseminated  by  generations  of  actors  be- 
longing to  my  family,  I  was  sanguine  enough  to  believe 
that  in  ten  years  I  might  come  to  have  a  knowledge  of 
my  profession.  But  when  the  appointed  time  was  com- 
pleted, I  found  that  I  was  still  only  a  beginner. 

Subjected  to  the  rigor  of  a  training  which  did  him  a 
v/orld  of  good,  Mr.  Drew  played  Dolly  Spanker  in 
"London  Assurance"  and  Gaspar  in  "The  Lady  of 
Lyons,"  besides  having  more  than  silent  parts  in 
"Black-Eyed  Susan"  and  "The  Hunchback."  Daly 
saw  him  in  1875,  and  in  February  of  that  year  he  ap- 
peared at  Daly's  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre,  New  York, 
as  Bob  Ruggles,  in  "The  Big  Bonanza."  In  1876 
he  was  playing  Rosencranz  to  Booth's  Hamlet,  and 
was  cast  likewise  as  Exton  in  "Richard  H"  and 
Francois  in  "Richelieu." 

His  next  experience  was  with  Fanny  Davenport,  who 
toured  during  1877-78  in  a  repertoire  extending  from 
"As  You  Like  It"  to  Daly's  "Pique."  Then  Drew 
joined  Barrymore  and  Warde,  touring  in  1878-79 
with  "Diplomacy"  as  the  chief  attraction.  Mr.  Daly 
had,  at  this  period,  given  up  his  management  of  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Theatre. 

But  in  1879  Mr.  Drew  began  his  association  with 
Daly  which  was  to  last  until  1892 ;  it  was  a  brilUant 
record,  diversified  in  range  of  roles  and  embracing 
the  most  romantic,  the  most  himiorous,  the  most 
boisterous  of  characters. 

Augustin  Daly  was  a  manager  who  brought  to  the 
stage  lavish  ideas,  and  he  was  one  of  the  last  of  those 
managers  to  make  of  his  theatre  a  home  where  the 
cultured  gathered.  His  experiments  may  not  always 
have  been  wise ;  he  was,  however,  invigorating  and 
gathered  around  the  playhouse  an  atmosphere  that 
still  clings  to  it,  now  the  days  are  past.  He  gave 
valuable,  even  though  rigorous,  training  and  Mr. 
184 


-g    & 

to        UJ 


Drew  profited  by  it.  There  was  not  always  plain  sail- 
ing for  him;  Daly  expected  much  from  his  players 
and  he  praised  but  Uttle.  Yet  Miss  Ada  Rehan  and 
Mr.  Drew  fairly  revelled  in  the  comedies  that  were 
presented  from  season  to  season. 
To  those  who  know  the  latter  only  in  his  modem 
society  representations,  it  is  well  to  recall  that  while 
at  Daly's,  he  played  Ford  in  "The  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor" ;  the  King  of  Navarre  in  "Love's  Labour's 
Lost";  Petruchio  in  "Taming  of  the  Shrew";  De- 
metrius in  "A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream";  and 
Orlando  in  "As  You  Like  It." 

During  his  twelve  seasons,  Mr.  Drew  gained  in  that 
natural  ease  which  distinguishes  his  work  of  the 
present.  There  was  more  variety  in  his  roles  then 
than  now;  there  was  more  scope  for  the  display  of 
dash  and  character  drawing,  as  opposed  to  ease  and 
grace  and  wit,  which  are  the  distinguishing  marks  of 
the  dress-suit  comedy.  He  portrayed  Charles  Surface 
then  with  distinction,  but  now  it  would  be  hard  to 
imagine  Mr.  Drew  outside  of  the  conventional  role. 
His  last  production  with  Daly  was  as  Robin  Hood 
in  Tennyson's  "The  Foresters" — and  then  in  1892-93 
he  broke  from  the  old  regime.  During  these  twelve 
seasons  the  company  had  acted  in  England  in  1884, 
1886,  1888,  1890,  and  1891,  and  Drew  had  found  time 
to  visit  France  and  Germany.  Charles  Frohman  was 
coming  into  the  ascendency ;  he  was  standing  on  the 
edge  of  the  dramatic  firmament,  making  ready  to 
announce  John  Drew  as  one  of  his  first  modem  stars, 
WilUam  Winter's  estimate  of  Drew  was  penned  just 
at  the  moment  this  important  change  from  Daly  to 
Frohman  occurred.  In  it  the  critic  called  attention  to 
the  actor's  abihty  in  expressing  quizzical  wonder,  to 
his  fine  precision  of  speech,  to  his  earnestness,  and  to 
his  intellectual  purpose,  adding  further  that  his  acting 
was  "illumined  with  the  lustre  of  high  principle,  per- 
sonal purity,  and  a  life  of  thought  and  refimement." 

185 


anti  Cl^e 
'Barrtmorejsj 


Barrriuovcjs 


V- 


Mr.  Drew's  initial  success  under  the  new  manage- 
ment was  in  Fitch's  adaptation  of  "The  Masked 
Ball"  (1 892),  a  play  which  brought  recognition  to 
Miss  Maude  Adams  for  the  first  time.  She  was  leading 
lady  in  Drew's  company  and  continued  so  through 
Carleton's  "The  Butterflies"  (1893),  Jones's  "The 
Bauble  Shop"  (1894),  Carleton's  "That  Imprudent 
Young  Couple"  (1895),  Mrs.  Riley's  "Christopher, 
Jr.,"  and  Carton's  "The  Squire  of  Dames"  (1895).  In 
1896  Louis  N.  Parker's  "Rosemary"  was  presented 
with  favor,  after  which  Miss  Adams  became  a  star — 
a  step  which  no  one  has  ever  regretted  who  has  wit- 
nessed the  girlishness  of  her  Lady  Babbie  in  "The 
Little  Minister" ;  the  pathos  of  her  L'Aiglon  in  Ros- 
tand's poetic  drama;  or  the  charm  and  spirit  of 
her  Peter  Pan  in  Barrie's  fantastic  drama  of  that 
name. 

Every  season  Mr.  Drew  produces  a  new  drama ;  an 
enumeration  of  his  plays  is  hardly  necessary,  where 
the  records  are  so  recent  as  to  be  available  to  all 
playgoers.  Perhaps  his  most  successful  pieces  so  far 
have  been  Jones's  "The  Liars"  (1898)  and  Captain 
Marshall's  "The  Second  in  Command"  (1901).  His 
leading  ladies  have  included  Isabelle  Irving,  Ida  Con- 
quest, and  Margaret  Dale. 

Of  his  immediate  family,  Mr.  Drew's  wife  was  known 
to  the  stage,  and  his  daughter  Louise,  one  afternoon 
during  the  run  of  her  father's  play  "The  Tyranny  of 
Tears"  (1899),  written  by  Haddon  Chambers,  made 
her  first  appearance,  and  has  since  filled  minor  parts 
in  many  pieces.  But  so  far,  the  mention  of  the  name 
Drew  suggests  only  one  as  the  representative  of  the 
acting  line. 

Mr.  Drew  is  a  pleasing  player;  he  shows  no  pro- 
nounced vigor,  no  determined  clash  in  his  acting — 
probably  for  the  reason  that  his  dramas  call  for  none. 
They  are  severely  comfortable  in  their  situations, 
and  save  in  one  or  two  instances  they  are  mostly  de- 
186 


void   of   characterization;   they   nearly   all   consist    '^\\^   IBtttBtf 
chiefly  of  sparkling  dialogue.  So  well  has  Mr.  Drew    ^^""^    >*^ *'*-**»?» 
mastered  this  simple  art,  which  is  simple  just  because    SUD   "C^l^  t 
it  is  mastered,  that  something  more  might  be  ex-    ^tr j* ♦.♦♦*«♦**  nrrd 
pected  of  him  than  the  aim  merely  to  entertain,  and    ^^WiUXOTZp 
to  be  mildly  stimulating.  His  method  is  easy  and 
unconscious;  it  has  not  the  finesse  of  the  French 
method  yet  it  has  much  more  natural  refinement. 
Mr.  Drew  is  justly  popular  and  it  was  because  of 
his  personal  worth  and  merit  that  he  was  offered 
and  accepted,  during  1905,  the  distinguished  post 
of  President  of  "  The  Players,"  to  succeed  Joseph 
Jefferson. 

By  the  marriage  of  Georgiana  Drew,  another  branch 
of  this  actor-family  was  established.  As  an  actress 
she,  too,  had  made  her  debut  at  the  Arch  Street  Thea- 
tre in  1872  ;  later,  in  1876,  she  became  a  member  of  ^^ 
the  Daly  company,  after  which  she  supported  sue- 
cessively  Booth,  Barrett,  McCullough,  and  Modjes- 
ka.  It  was  on  December  31,  1876,  that  she  married 
Maurice  Barrymore,  a  young  Englishman  who  had 
made  his  American  appearance  on  the  stage  the  year 
before  in  "The  Shaughraun,"  On  January  20,  1890, 
Mrs.  Barrymore  played  with  W.  H.  Crane  in  "The 
Senator."  The  keenest  sorrow  in  the  life  of  Mrs.  John 
Drew  was  the  death  of  her  daughter  in  California  on 
July  2,  1893,  which  was  followed  in  1894  by  that  of 
her  other  daughter  Louisa. 

The  career  of  Mr.  Barrymore  was  one  of  misguided 
talents;  being  endowed  with  much  more  than  that 
from  which  many  a  modern  star  is  created,  he  was 
destined  himself  always  to  remain  in  support  of  oth- 
ers; whenever  he  attempted  to  stand  alone,  failure,  /^ 
stared  him  in  the  face.  He  possessed  a  romantic  dash 
and  a  melodramatic  fervor  that  won  for  his  work 
general  admiration.  He  was  too  erratic  to  receive 
benefit  from  stock  training,  though  after  his  first 
attempt  at  dramatic  work  he  served  in  such  an  or- 

187 


v^ 


ganization  at  Scarboro,  and  was  repeatedly  subjected 
to  its  influence  throughout  his  career. 
Barry  more  was  born  in  India  during  1847,  his  family 
name  being  Herbert  Blythe.  He  studied  at  Harrow 
and  Oxford,  and  then  was  in  the  midst  of  his  Civil 
Service  preparation  when  his  health  failed  him.  His 
next  youthful  experiment  was  law,  but  like  so  many 
actors  before  and  after  him,  this  proved  far  from 
his  taste. 

His  strength  had,  by  1872,  so  far  recovered  its  nor- 
mal condition  that  he  was  awarded  the  Queensbury 
cup  for  amateur  boxing— a  public  distinction  which 
for  the  time  completely  overshadowed  his  first  ap- 
pearance as  an  actor.  This  had  taken  place  during 
the  same  year,  at  Windsor,  and  the  role  was  Cool  in 
"London  Assurance." 

There  followed  a  provincial  tour  with  Charles  Van- 
derhofif,  who,  coming  to  America  in  1875,  brought 
Barrymore  with  him.  At  the  Boston  Theatre,  on 
January  23,  1875,  Maurice  Barrymore  made  his 
American  debut  at  a  benefit  to  Leslie  Allen ;  the  play 
was  "Under  the  Gaslight"  and  his  part  was  Ray 
Trafford.  Then  came  a  revival  of  "The  Shaugh- 
raun,"  with  Barrymore  as  Captain  Molyneaux. 
That  year,  1875,  was  a  varied  one.  During  the  sum- 
mer, Barrymore  toured  with  the  Daly  Company,  and 
with  them  on  August  23d  made  his  first  New  York 
appearance  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  in  "The  Big 
Bonanza."  On  October  28th  he  was  playing  Laer- 
tes in  Booth's  "Hamlet."  For  two  seasons  he  re- 
mained with  Daly,  and  then,  on  October  29,  1877, 
was  supporting  Jefferson  in  "Rip  Van  Winkle," 
assuming  the  role  of  Hendrick  Vedder.  His  next 
move  was  an  engagement  with  Fanny  Davenport,  to 
second  her  with  such  parts  as  Orlando  in  "As  You 
Like  It"  and  Orsino  in  "Twelfth  Night." 
In  1879  Barrymore  was  leading  man  in  the  Lester 
Wallack  Stock  Company,  acting  with  brilliancy  in 
188 


"Our  Girls,"   "The   Shaughraun,"   and  many  old     "^h^   ©tCtDJJ 

English  comedies;  and  in  1881  he  was  playing  Cap-  -^„ 

tain  Absolute  in  "The  Rivals,"  with  Jefferson  and  y'  attO    xLl^t 
Mrs.  John  Drew.  His  spirit,  his  humor,  his  quickness     n^art*«intDt^^ 
gave  life  to  the  company.  Perhaps  it  was  during  this      >C't**'*'yinu*'t-p 
tour  or  during  1893  that,  one  Christmas,  he  had  his 
fling  of  wit  at  each  member  of  the  company.  Jeffer- 
son used  to  tell  Francis  Wilson  with  all  the  zest  of  a 
boy — Jefferson  never  lost  that  hearty  buoyancy — 
how  Barrymore  sent  Mrs.  Drew  a  gift  of  peanuts, 
her  special  abhorrence ;  while  he  received  a  copy  of 
"The  Rivals"  with  all  the  parts  cut  out  save  those 
belonging  to  Bob  Acres. 

On  September  21,  1881,  at  the  London  Court  Thea- 
tre, Barrymore  presented  "Honor,"  an  adaptation 
made  by  him  from  the  French ;  it  had  a  long  run. 
In  the  fall  of  1882  he  began  a  four  years'  contract 
with  Modjeska,  appearing  in  a  round  of  dramas 
including  "Adrienne  Lecouvreur,"  "As  You  Like 
It,"  "Mary  Stuart,"  and  "Frou  Frou."  During  this 
time  Barrymore  wrote  a  play  of  Polish  life  which  he 
called  "Nadjeska,"  and  which  was  presented  in  Bal- 
timore on  February  8,  1884.  Then  it  was  produced  at 
the  New  York  Star  Theatre  on  February  12th,  and 
while  played  wonderfully  by  Modjeska,  it  was  se- 
verely criticised  as  a  drama.  It  was  also  given  at  the 
London  Haymarket  on  January  2, 1886,  when  Barry- 
more, his  wife,  and  Beerbohm  Tree  were  in  the  cast. 
As  a  playwright  Mr.  Barrymore  wrote  "Blood  Will 
Tell,"  and  also  made  a  libretto  called  "The  Robbers 
of  the  Rhine,"  which  was  presented  with  no  success 
in  1892. 

One  engagement  followed  another.  A  season,  that  of 
1887-88,  was  spent  with  Mrs.  Langtry,  when  she  was 
touring  in  "As  in  a  Looking  Glass"  and  "A  Wife's 
Peril" ;  then  came  five  seasons  under  Palmer  who 
cast  Barrymore  in  such  pieces  as  "Captain  Swift," 
"Alabama,"    and    "Lady   Windermere's   Fan."    In 

189 


'iE^ljC    1DVC\DJEJ    1 890  he  made  only  a  fair  impression,  while  playing 
_  ^.^     ^1,^  in  F.  Hopkinson  Smith's  "Colonel  Carter  of  Carters- 

'^fllTVniOrCjSJ  such  a  career  need  not  be  followed  closely  to  be 
understood.  Barrymore  experienced  the  varying  ups 
and  downs  of  an  ordinary  player,  though  his  worth  as 
an  actor  was  uncommonly  excellent.  His  natural  way 
and  his  picturesque  bearing  brought  him  many 
opportunities.  In  1893-94  he  led  with  Mrs.  Bemard- 
Beere,  and  then  in  turn  became  a  member  of  com- 
panies starring  Rose  Coghlan  and  Katherine  Clem- 
mons.  In  1894-95  he  was  with  Olga  Nethersole,  and 
in  the  fall  of  1895  he  played  the  role  of  Allan  Ken- 
drick  in  Belasco's  "The  Heart  of  Maryland,"  when 
Mrs.  Leslie  Carter  received  her  first  impetus  toward 
public  favor.  The  spirit  of  the  part  was  upon  Bar- 
rymore, for  only  on  May  13,  1895,  he  had  acted 
William  Gillette's  own  role  in  "Secret  Service." 
During  the  summer  he  had  played  in  stock  on  the 
Pacific  Coast. 

The  year  1896  marked  one  of  Barrymore's  unsuc- 
cessful starring  tours  in  "Roaring  Dick  and  Com- 
pany," a  play  made  from  a  novel  by  Walter  Besant, 
called  "Ready-Money  Mortiboy."  In  1897-98  he  was 
again  in  vaudeville,  leaving  it  to  appear  in  a  revival 
of  "Shenandoah"  during  the  spring.  Then  in  the  fall 
of  1898  he  assumed  the  part  of  Rawdon  Crawley  in 
Mrs.  Fiske's  production  of  "Vanity  Fair,"  a  drama- 
tization made  by  Langdon  Mitchell  and  called 
"Becky  Sharp." 

After  appearing  in  vaudeville  in  1900  and  1901,  Mr. 
Barrymore  was  obliged  to  retire  altogether  from  the 
stage  after  the  evening  of  March  28,  1901.  Complete 
'/  mental  collapse  was  the  immediate  necessity,  and  it 
was  in  confinement  that  he  died  at  Amityville,  Long 
Island,  on  March  25,  1905. 

Mr.  Henry  Miller  has  laid  stress  upon  Barrymore's 
strength  and  gentleness,  upon  his  wit  and  pictur- 
190 


ETHEL    BARRYMORE 


esqueness,  upon  his  handsome  figure  and  dominat-    -^hp    5^tC\D£j 
ing  personality — upon    the    ever-popular   "Barry"         ^     ^^ 
who  knew  how  to  make  the  sacrifice  of  a  friend    EUD    (iLyC 
for  a  friend,  whose  fellowship  was  rare  and  whose    '^i^^'tvrtimnrrci 
sparkle  was  inexhaustible.  JDarrimui^tp 

Banymore's  name  is  preserved  to  present  playgoers 
in  a  three-fold  manner.  His  daughter  Ethel  has  won 
a  position  for  herself  through  her  earnestness  and 
refreshing  way.  Her  roles  have  been  ambitious  for 
one  of  so  short  a  career,  and  her  strides  in  popular 
favor  have  increased  with  the  increase  of  subtlety  in 
her  attempts. 

Miss  Barrymore  was  bom  in  Philadelphia  on  Au- 
gust 15,  1879,  and  received  her  education  in  the  ^ 
Convent  of  Notre  Dame  in  that  city ;  she  was  con- 
tinually with  her  grandmother  during  these  early 
years.  Her  first  appearance  was  made  in  her  uncle's 
company,  when  Mr.  Drew  was  playing  "The  Bauble  / 
Shop,"  in  1894.  The  next  year  she  replaced  Agnes 
Miller,  who  had  a  minor  part  in  "The  Squire  of 
Dames."  But  it  was  in  1896,  when  "Rosemary"  was 
enjoying  its  success,  that  she  created  her  first  role  as 
a  maid.  In  1897  she  went  abroad,  joining  the  com- 
pany of  Sir  Henry  Irving,  and  there  appearing  with 
him  as  Annette  in  "The  Bells."  In  1899  she  acted 
with  Annie  Russell  in  "Catherine"  (her  cousin, 
Georgie  Drew  Mendum  was  also  in  the  cast),  and 
after  that,  Mr.  Frohman  sent  her  on  the  road  with 
a  leading  role  in  "His  Excellency  the  Governor." 
Since  becoming  a  star  Miss  Barrymore  has  played  in 
"Captain  Jinks,"  (1901-2)  "The  Country  Mouse"  and 
"Carrots"  (1902-3),  "Cousin  Kate"  (1903-4),  "Sun- 
day" (1904-5),  "A  Doll's  House"  (May  3,  1905), 
and  "Alice  Sit-by-the-Fire,"  from  the  inimitable  pen 
of  J.  M.  Barrie,  who  (1906)  likewise  wrote  a  playlet 
of  quaint  conceit  called  "Pantaloon,"  a  harlequin 
domestic  story,  in  which  Lionel  Barrymore  and  John 
Barrymore  both  won  deserved  success. 

191 


auD  Cl)c 


Lionel  Barrymore  had  first  come  into  notice  as  an 
actor  during  a  revival  of  "Cumberland,  '6i,"  but  his 
cleverness  was  more  fully  shown  in  "The  Mummy 
and  the  Hummingbird" ;  he  there  played  reaUstically 
the  part  of  an  Italian  organ-grinder.  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  Thomas's  "The  Other  Girl"  where  he 
appeared  as  a  prize-fighter,  exhibiting  a  bit  of 
good-natured  coarseness  which  was  a  close  study 
of  Ufe. 

John  Barr)rmore,  having  won  somewhat  of  a  name 
for  himself  as  a  painter,  became  best  known  as  an 
actor  in  Davis's  "The  Dictator,"  though  previously  he 
had  played  in  Fitch's  "Glad  of  It,"  one  of  those  con- 
structed plays,  whose  purpose  being  to  show  a  cer- 
tain phase  of  Ufe  —  this  time  the  theatrical  profession 
— overemphasizes  the  phase  and  misses  the  life. 
All  three  Barrymores  are  at  that  point  in  their  work 
where  prediction  would  be  useless.  By  far  the  most 
distinct  member  is  Ethel.  Her  acting  is  perfectly 
natural,  her  personality  pleasing.  She  has  youthful 
energy,  though  her  physique  is  yielding  and  she  is 
slenderly  built.  In  fact  it  is  Miss  Barrymore's  youth 
which  gives  the  appealing  quality  to  all  of  her  most 
ambitious  efforts.  She  has  played  the  middle-aged 
woman  and  one  has  seen  all  the  girl-characteristics 
below  the  make-beUeve.  The  personal  equation  is  a 
balance  of  youth  and  simpUcity. 
One  day  Miss  Barrymore,  to  whom  the  open  air 
means  much,  to  whom  music  is  a  pastime,  and  who 
has  never  had  the  ambition  to  play  in  Shakespeare, 
took  up  a  volume  of  Ibsen,  and  began  reading  "A 
Doll's  House."  With  a  quick  perception  she  saw  her- 
self in  the  role  of  Nora.  Her  desire  stretched  out  for 
one  of  the  most  compact  and  subtle  plays  of  modem 
times. 

But  Miss  Barrymore's  Nora  struck  a  high  note  in  her 
progress.  It  was  more  than  a  worthy  attempt ;  it  was 
a  success  due  to  intelligence  and  keen  art.  If  she 
192 


failed  to  handle  the  sudden  change  in  Nora's  char- 
acter from  the  doll  she  was  in  the  beginning  to  the 
woman  she  was  in  the  end,  it  was  because  she  herself 
was  not  then  ripe  enough  in  experience  to  give  it  the 
maturity  it  needed.  In  the  first  two  acts,  where  Nora, 
the  ingenue,  dances  through  her  life  with  inherited 
weakness,  with  childish  actions,  with  reckless  lying, 
and  with  impulsive,  blind  love.  Miss  Barrymore  ex- 
celled. There  are  those  who  turn  from  Nora  with  dis- 
gust ;  they  cannot  accept  the  theory  of  marital  duty 
which  Ibsen  makes  Nora  call  "the  Miracle" — in  the 
face  of  a  mother's  love.  They  cannot  applaud  the  idea 
of  a  wife  leaving  her  husband  because  he  persists  in 
being  selfish  and  in  treating  her  as  a  child,  when  that 
wife  is  likewise  the  mother  of  three  children.  The 
last  act  of  the  play  is  Ibsen's  Idea — Miss  Barrymore, 
however,  studied  Nora  not  as  an  Idea,  but  as  a  char- 
acter—  a  human  interpretation;  much  of  the  hard- 
ness, the  angular  distinctness  was  softened  by  Miss 
Banymore's  frank  and  natural  method. 
The  Drews  and  the  Barrymores,  unlike  the  other 
families  considered  in  previous  chapters,  present  no 
dominant  note  in  their  work ;  they  have  all  been 
comedians,  but  not  comedians  of  one  type ;  their  y 
laugh  has  not  sunned  the  heart  however  much  it 
may  have  provoked  mirth.  Mrs.  John  Drew  possessed 
a  perfection  so  stately  and  so  unconscious  that  it 
ceased  to  be  art,  being  so  near  Uke  Ufe  itself.  It  was 
too  strong  ever  to  be  dainty ;  it  was  too  spirited  ever 
to  be  languorous. 

Her  son  is  a  comedian  of  a  different  sort.  Once 
his  work  flourished  on  something  more  than  the  dry 
humor  of  expression ;  it  carried  dash  and  originality 
and  a  certain  romance  inherited  from  the  elder  Drew ; 
now  its  limits  are  set  by  those  who  have  been  led, 
only  through  custom,  to  expect  what  they  get  before 
they  get  it. 
And  Miss  Barrymore,  as  representing  the  third  gen- 

193 


'Batr^morejS 


\L\)t    IDVCW^    eration  in  America,  is  a  comedienne  whose  pathos  is 
ailh    {The  ^^  much  a  part  of  her  as  her  smile.  There  is  the  strain 

aim    V-,IH  Qj  quizzical  humor  inherited  from  the  Drews;  there 

1!3(irtVniOrC)3     ^^  ^  deeper  strain  of  romance  which  was  such  a  large 
part  of  Maurice  Barrymore's  own  temperament. 


194 


Vm— THE  WALLACKS 


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Vm— THE  WALLACKS 

HE  Wallack  family  of  actors,  as 
far  as  America  is  concerned, 
never  succeeded  in  becoming 
acclimated.  Each  member  was 
popular,  each  scored  distinct 
successes,  but  each  remained 
EngUsh  to  the  end.  Even  the 
theatres,  which,  bearing  the 
name  Wallack,  served  as  such 
extraordinary  examples  of  the  old-time  stock  system, 
while  doing  much  toward  encouraging  the  presenta- 
tion of  classic  plays,  did  little  toward  stimulating  and 
furthering  native  ability.  Still,  during  a  long  period 
of  stage  history  in  America,  the  Wallacks  were  dom- 
inant in  a  brilUant  way,  and  remained  so  despite 
their  English  proclivities. 

Robert  Buchanan  was  once  at  a  dinner  in  New  York, 
where  he  referred  to  Lester  Wallack,  in  the  latter's 
presence,  as  an  American.  "Don't  say  that,"  quickly 
rejoined  the  actor;  "I'm  an  Englishman,  thank  God!" 
At  another  time,  when  Great  Britain  and  America 
were  rather  strained  in  their  relations,  Wallack 
raised  the  English  flag  above  his  country  house.  The 
result  was  that  an  angry  populace  tore  it  down  and 
further  feeling  was  aroused.  Discretion  is  the  better 
part  of  valor;  it  is  the  least  part  of  melodrama,  and 
these  actions  of  Wallack's  were  theatric. 
But  our  record  would  not  be  complete  if  it  failed 
to  examine  closely  the  active  lives  of  these  players. 
Their  theatrical  claims  extend  from  the  time  of 
Garrick,  since  Lester's  grandmother  was,  once,  dur- 
ing that  tragedian's  career,  his  leading  lady.  James 
WiUiam  Wallack  and  his  son  were  on  the  stage 
through  a  period  covering  the  greater  part  of  a  cen- 
tury ;  they  became  associated  with  a  brilliant  coterie 
of  men  and  women,  who  made  famous  the  English 
stage,  and  who  gave  to  America  a  tradition  of  ines- 

197 


-^^i^  timable  value.  One  has  but  to  glance  at  the  portraits 

contained  in  Lester  Wallack's  "Memories  of  Fifty 

iyt^^llBCfl)S{  Years"  to  realize  how  far-reaching  was  the  ac- 
quaintance of  this  family  and  how  in  them  it  was 
possible  to  see  at  work,  methods  bom  of  the  schools 
of  Garrick,  EUiston,  and  Kean. 
As  actors,  the  line  began  well,  for  both  William  Wal- 
lack  (who  died  on  March  6,  1850,  aged  90)  and  his 
wife,  EUzabeth  Field  Granger,  won  considerable 
applause  while  playing  at  Astley's  Amphitheatre  in 
London.  Biography  nowhere  records  whether  the 
fact  that  WilUam  was  famed  for  his  maritime  roles 
had  anything  to  do  with  his  desire  to  see  his  son, 
James  William,  in  the  navy,  where  an  opening  as 
midshipman  could  have  been  his  for  the  asking;  or 
whether,  in  a  negative  way,  as  far  as  John  Lester 
was  concerned,  it  had  anything  to  do  with  his  youth- 
ful preference  for  the  army.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  the 
art  of  acting  was  the  common  lot  of  all  three.  It  is 
to  be  noted  that  a  two-act  melodrama  was  once  pub- 
lished, entitled  "The  Pilot  of  the  German  Ocean,"  by 
W.  H.  Wallack,  Esq. 

Elizabeth  Field  had  been  previously  married  to  a  Dr. 
Granger,  and  her  daughter  by  this  alliance  was  the 
Mrs.  Jones  who,  playing  at  the  New  York  Park  Thea- 
tre during  the  season  of  1805-6,  was  called  "the 
Jordan  of  America."  Her  popularity  was  also  con- 
siderable at  the  London  Haymarket,  and  she  would 
have  attained  greater  prominence  had  she  not  died 
in  New  York,  on  November  11,  1806,  when  only 
twenty-four  years  of  age.  She  had  two  children 
known  to  the  profession  as  Mrs.  Edmund  Simpson, 
wife  of  the  manager  of  the  Park  Theatre,  and  Mrs. 
Bancker.  The  Wallack  par  excellence  was  James 
William,  who  was  bom  at  Hercules  Buildings, 
Lambeth,  in  London,  on  a  date  variously  given  as 
1 79 1 — August  17  or  20, 1794 — and  more  often  stated 
as  August  24,  1795,  since  the  inscription  on  his  grave- 
198 


stone  reads  that  he  died  on  December  25,  1864,  aged  '^h^ 
sixty-nine.  One  theory  is  that  his  birth  was  hastened  y^  ,.  ^ 
by  the  burning  of  Astley's  Amphitheatre  in  1794.  E^SllmCaJo 
His  stage  career  began  when  he  had  just  attained  his 
fourth  year,  in  a  production,  indiscriminately  called 
"Black  Beard"  or  "Blue  Beard,"  at  the  Royal  Circus, 
which  afterward  became  the  London  Surrey  Thea- 
tre. In  1804  young  Wallack  was  to  be  seen  at  the 
German  Theatre,  known  later  as  Dibden's  Sans 
Souci.  Even  at  the  early  age  of  twelve  he  came  under 
the  notice  of  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  and  the 
next  two  seasons  found  him  in  support  at  Drury  Lane, 
where,  in  1807,  he  was  the  Negro  Boy  in  a  panto- 
mime, "Furibond,  or  Harlequin  Negro."  The  theatre 
burned  down  on  February  24,  1809,  and  there  fol- 
lowed for  Wallack  an  engagement  at  the  Dublin 
Royal  Hibernian,  managed  by  Henry  Erskine  John- 
ston (1810).  But  the  youthful  actor  made  no  decided 
impression  at  this  time ;  nor  did  he,  in  fact,  until  after 
the  reopening  of  Drury  Lane,  which  occurred  on  the 
evening  of  October  12,  1812,  with  the  reading  of  a 
prologue  written  by  Lord  Byron.  It  was  then  that 
Wallack's  Laertes,  to  the  Hamlet  of  Charles  Lamb's 
Elliston,  won  for  him  some  Uttle  recognition,  though 
many  would  detract  from  it  by  saying  that  he  imi- 
tated Elliston. 

For  the  next  three  years,  Wallack  was  well  trained 
in  a  varied  Ust  of  plays;  we  find  him  as  Charles 
Stanley  in  "A  Cure  for  the  Heartache,"  Cleveland 
in  "The  School  for  Authors,"  Edward  Lacy  in 
"Riches" — playing  with  Edmund  Kean,  Theodore  in 
Arnold's  "Jean  de  Paris"  (November  i,  1814),  Alwyn 
in  Mrs.  Wilmot's  "Ina"  (April  22,  1815),  Malcohn 
in  "Macbeth,"  Altamont  in  "The  Fair  Penitent," 
Plastic  in  "Town  and  Country,"  Aumerle  in  "Richard 
II,"  and  Frederick  in  "The  Jew."  He  was  the  original 
Maclean  in  Joanna  Baillie's  "Family  Legend"  (May 
20,  1815),  and  further  played  Axalla  in  "Tamerlane," 

199 


t^j^C  Loveless  in  "A  Trip  to  Scarborough,"  Wellbred  in 

a»»a  1 1  flritd  "Every  Man  in  His  Humour,"  Joseph  in  "The  School 
t^ailattt?  f^j.  Scandal,"  Captain  Absolute  in  "The  Rivals," 
Norfolk  in  "Richard  HI,"  Alcibiades  in  "Timon  of 
Athens,"  and  Don  Lodowick  in  Penley's  version  of 
Marlowe's  "The  Jew  of  Malta."  Nor  had  he  been 
ignored  in  such  prominent  roles  as  Petruchio,  Mer- 
cutio,  and  Benedick.  During  a  period  extending  to 
1818,  v/hen  but  twenty-two  years  of  age,  Wallack 
had  thus  been  trained  and  seasoned,  under  the  pat- 
ronage of  Sheridan  and  Byron,  under  the  guidance 
of  Ellision  and  Kean.  His  greatest  success  at  this 
time  was  attained  as  Wilford  in  "The  Iron  Chest." 
The  friendship  of  Byron  meant  much  to  Wallack; 
the  poet  was  a  member  of  the  Drury  Lane  Board 
of  Management,  from  the  early  summer  of  181 5  to 
the  spring  of  1816.  There  is  some  reference  to  the  two 
having  boxed  together,  and  having  been  congenial 
companions,  though  Byron's  letters  ignore  Wallack, 
who  shared  the  distinction  with  him  of  being  one  of 
the  handsomest  men  in  England.  A  typical  gUmpse 
of  the  poet  at  the  theatre  is  left  to  us  from  the  pen  of 
J.  H.  Siddons,  who  was  taken  by  Sheridan  to  Drury 
Lane  in  1815: 

"Between  the  acts  of  a  play,"  runs  the  account,  "he 
[Sheridan]  led  me  into  the  saloon  at  the  back  of  the 
boxes.  Lord  Byron,  in  a  dark  blue  dress-coat,  broad 
white  trousers,  his  shirt-collar  turned  down,  his  digits 
encased  in  kid  gloves,  and  a  hat  under  his  arm,  was 
leaning  in  a  studied  attitude  against  a  pillar." 

Wallack  was  familiar  with  Kean's  Shylock,  which 
was  played  at  Drury  Lane  on  January  26,  1814; 
he  heard  Elliston  at  his  best ;  he  came  in  contact  with 
Kemble,  Munden,  Mathews,  and  Mrs.  Siddons.  His 
mother,  having  acted  with  Garrick,  brought  him  the 
Savor  of  that  golden  age.  Yet  one  v/ould  imagine 
Wallack's  genius  to  have  been  something  original, 
despite  his  imitations.  :^n  all  accounts  of  this  actor- 
200 


JAMES    W.    WALU^K,    AS   JAQUES 


family,  the  word  picturesque  is  oftenest  used  to  char-    'Cl^C 
acterize  their  acting— personal  charm— exuberance    '^aUarkd 
of  spirit  which  Ireland  beheved  led  Lester  Wallack  to    ^^^^»^»" 
become  too  famiUar  with  his  audiences. 
Through  Byron's  intervention,  James  William  was 
released  from  his  contract  at  Drury  Lane  in  1818, 
and  he  sailed  for  America,  where  on  September  7th, 
at  the  old  Park  Theatre,  managed  by  Edmund  Simp- 
son, he  appeared  as  Macbeth,  further  assuming  the 
roles  of  Hamlet,  Romeo,  and  Richard  III,  in  all  of 
which  he  was  seriously  considered. 
James    H.    Hackett    witnessed    Wallack's    Hamlet 
during  this  visit,  and  in  later  years  recorded  in  his 
book: 

With  particular  reference  to  Mr.  Wallack's  Hamlet, 
which,  as  it  has  happened,  I  have  not  had  an  opportunity 
to  witness  since  my  "youth,"  when  my  ideas  of  the 
character  were  crude  and  superficial,  and  which,  there- 
fore, it  would  be  unjust  in  me  now  to  criticise  retro- 
spectively, I  did  then  very  well  note  that  Mr.  Wallack's 
action  was  easy  and  graceful,  his  voice  and  articulation 
were  clear  and  distinct. 

But  the  conception  lacked  weight  to  Hackett,  and  in 
its  philosophical  side  was  devoid  of  depth  and  inten- 
sity of  meditation. 

Still,  Wallack's  first  trip  to  America  at  once  stamped 
his  variety;  it  was,  as  W.  J.  Florence  wrote,  "a 
triumphant  indorsement  of  his  London  repute." 
Even  now  he  was  looked  upon  as  a  possible  suc- 
cessor of  Kemble,  whom,  as  Talfourd  declared,  he 
sought  to  imitate. 

While  at  the  Park,  the  actor  was  seen  as  Don  Caesar 
de  Bazan,  Rolla  in  Sheridan's  "Pizarro"  (November 
30,  1818),  and  "Coriolanus."  Already  he  was  mar- 
ried. 

On  November  20,  1820,  he  was  back  at  Drury  Lane 
playing  "Hamlet,"  and  in  succession  appearing  as 
Brutus  in  Payne's  "The  Fall  of  Tarquin,"  Brutus  in 

201 


'^\)C  "Julius   Caesar,"   RoUa   with   pronounced   success, 

"Richard    III,"    and    "The   Merchant   of   Venice," 

l[2^illUlCltj3  modeUing  his  Shylock  after  Kean.  Around  1855, 
when  Wallack  had  been  managing  the  Broome 
Street  Theatre  some  time,  he  went  to  a  dinner  with 
his  son  Lester,  and  Thackeray  and  George  WilUam 
Curtis  were  present.  A  few  nights  before,  Thackeray 
had  seen  the  elder  actor's  Shylock.  "Wallack,"  he 
exclaimed,  looking  through  those  round-rimmed 
spectacles  of  his,  "[yours]  is  the  first  Shylock  who 
ever  gave  me  the  idea  of  what  an  ill-used  man  he 
was." 

To  this  may  be  added  Talfourd's  own  picture  of 
Kean's  Jew,  seen  in  later  life : 

His  look  is  that  of  a  man  who  asserts  his  claim  to 
suffer,  as  one  of  a  race  of  sufferers ;  and  when  he  turns 
his  sorrowful  face  in  silence  to  the  frothy  coxcomb  who 
rails  at  him,  we  feel  the  immeasurable  superiority  of 
one  who  finds,  in  the  very  excess  of  his  misery,  his 
kindred  with  a  tribe  oppressed  for  ages,  to  the  insect 
boaster  of  the  day. 

On  April  25,  1821,  Wallack  appeared  as  Israel  Ber- 
tuccio  in  Byron's  "Marino  Faliero,"  and  two  months 
after,  having  incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  audience 
on  account  of  some  slight  to  Queen  Caroline,  he  made 
a  second  trip  to  America,  where  he  gave  imitations  of 
Kemble  as  Rolla,  Munden  as  Peter  in  "The  Cabinet," 
Mathews  as  Buskin,  Cooke  as  Richard,  and  Kean  as 
Shylock.  On  this  visit,  while  travelUng  between  New 
York  and  Philadelphia,  Wallack's  coach  overturned 
and  his  leg  was  broken,  an  accident  which  made  him 
lame  for  life,  though  he  disguised  the  fact  very  well. 
Scarcely  had  he  recovered  from  the  immediate  shock, 
when  he  was  back  on  the  boards,  in  a  piece,  Dibdin's 
"Birthday,"  which,  aptly  chosen,  required  the  chief 
character.  Captain  Bertram,  to  enter  on  a  pair  of 
crutches.  He  managed  surprisingly,  hopping  around 
the  stage  in  agile  fashion.  "Poor  fellow,"  exclaimed 
202 


those  in  the  audience,  "to  think  he  needs  must  use     -jTrt*^ 

crutches  all  his  life!"  But  in  the  eifter-piece,  "My     ^'^^ 

Aunt,"  what  was  their  astonishment  when  Wallack     ^^^ll^CfejS 

rushed  out,  hale  and  hearty,  apparently  sound  of 

limb  and  body ! 

Returning  to  England  in  the  fall  of  1823,  he  became 

stage-manager  of  Drury  Lane,  under  the  guidance  of 

ElUston,  again  playing  with  that  actor.  J.  H.  Siddons 

leaves  his  impressions  of  the  two  as  seen  together 

in  1826: 

The  first  night  after  my  arrival  [from  India]  I  went  to 
Drury  Lane  Theatre  to  see  Elliston  play  Falstaff.  A 
more  unctuous  knight  it  would  be  difficult  to  conceive. 
Macready  was  the  impetuous  Hotspur,  and  James  W. 
Wallack,  who  has  so  worthily  upheld  the  legitimate 
drama  in  America,  was  the  Prince.  I  need  not  say  it 
was  a  fine  piece  of  acting  on  Wallack's  part.  Elliston, 
however,  ruined  the  play  and  himself,  by  falling  on  the 
stage  dead  drunk  when  he  came  to  the  passage,  "Hal, 
if  thou  seest  me  down  in  the  battle,  and  bestridest  me 
so,  'tis  a  point  of  friendship,"  Elliston  had  not  that  hold 
upon  the  affections  of  the  public  which  made  them 
tolerant  of  the  escapades  of  a  Cooke  or  a  Kean.  One 
transgression  annihilated  his  theatrical  career.  [Wal- 
lack on  this  occasion  was  forced  to  carry  him  ofi  the 
stage.] 

The  year  1827  was  marked  by  Wallack's  playing 
lago  to  the  Othello  of  Kean,  besides  assuming  the 
roles  of  Edgar,  Macduff,  and  Richmond.  His  reper- 
toire was  large,  embracing  the  Ghost  in  "Hamlet," 
Ford,  Edgar,  Charalois,  in  Massinger's  "Fatal 
Dowry,"  Romeo,  Charles  Surface,  Rob  Roy,  and 
Petruchio.  Earlier  in  this  engagement,  on  January 
5, 1824,  he  had  played  the  Earl  of  Leicester  in  "Kenil- 
worth,"  and  had  won  applause  in  another  of  Scott's 
characterizations,  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  in  "Knights 
of  the  Cross,"  which  was  an  adaptation  of  "The 
Talisman."  That  he  was  exceedingly  popular  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that  when  the  season  closed,  in 

203 


-^hf  1828,  the  elder  Mathews,  in  behalf  of  the  company, 

gave  him  a  silver  service.  In  these  days  he  spent 

il'BllflCitp  most  of  his  spare  moments  at  the  Garrick  Club,  of 
which  he  was  a  member,  and  once  received  a  special 
command  to  appear  at  the  Royal  Palace. 
When  Wallack  returned  to  America  in  1828,  he  went 
to  the  Philadelphia  Arch  Street  Theatre,  which  was 
under  the  management  of  Wood.  It  so  happened  that 
at  this  time  Forrest  was  at  the  Walnut,  and  Cooper 
at  the  Chestnut,  and  the  good  Quaker  populace  found 
themselves  "  embarras  de  richesses."  Such  competi- 
tion brought  to  Wallack  a  salary  of  two  hundred 
dollars  nightly,  which  sum  was  unprecedented  for  the 
period.  On  January  7,  1829,  he  was  at  the  Park 
Theatre,  New  York,  where  he  was  playing  in  Miss 
Mitford's  tragedy,  "Rienzi." 

During  1832  the  actor  was  again  in  London ;  this  year, 
on  January  25th,  he  was  seen  as  Martin  He5rwoo(i 
in  Douglas  Jerrold's  "Rent  Day,"  a  piece  which  he 
brought  to  New  York  in  the  fall,  and  the  beautiful 
Fanny  Kemble  went  to  see  him,  leaving  a  quaint 
entry  in  her  journal,  under  date  September  5th.  She 
wrote : 

Came  home  up  Broadway,  which  is  a  long  street  of 
tolerable  width,  full  of  shops,  in  short,  the  American 
Oxford  Road,  where  all  people  go  to  exhibit  them- 
selves and  examine  others.  The  women  that  I  have  seen 
hitherto  have  all  been  very  gayly  dressed,  with  a  pre- 
tension to  French  style,  and  a  more  than  English  ex- 
aggeration of  it.  They  all  appear  to  me  to  walk  with  a 
French  shuffle,  which,  as  their  pavements  are  flat,  I 
can  only  account  for  by  their  wearing  shoes  made  in 
the  French  fashion,  which  are  enough  in  themselves  to 
make  a  waddler  of  the  best  walker  that  ever  set  foot  to 
earth.  Two  or  three  were  pretty  girls ;  but  the  town  being 
quite  empty,  these  are  probably  bad  specimens  of  the 
graces  and  charms  that  adorn  Broadway  in  its  season  of 
shining.  Came  home  and  had  tea;  after  which,  my 

father,  I,  and  Mr. crossed  the  Park  (a  small  bit  of 

grass  enclosed  in  white  palings;  in  plain  English,  a 
green)  to  the  theatre.  WaUack  was  to  act  in  the  "Rent 

204 


Day."  Mercy,  how  strange  I  felt  as  I  once  more  set  foot  '^^10 
in  a  theatre ;  the  sound  of  the  applause  set  my  teeth  on 
edge.  The  house  is  pretty,  though  rather  gloomy,  well-  ^^EllSCfelS 
formed,  about  the  size  of  the  Hajrmarket,  with  plenty 
of  gold  carving  and  red  silk  about  it,  looking  rich  and 
warm.  The  audience  was  considerable,  but  all  men; 
scarce,  I  should  think,  twenty  women  in  the  dress- 
circle,  where,  by  the  by,  as  well  as  in  the  private  boxes, 
I  saw  men  sitting  with  their  hats  on.  "The  Rent  Day" 
is  a  thorough  melodrama,  only  the  German  monster 
has  put  on  a  red  waistcoat  and  topboots.  Nathless  this 
is  a  good  thing  of  a  bad  sort;  the  incidents,  though  not 
all  probable,  or  even  skilfully  tacked  together  as  they 
might  be,  are  striking  and  dramatically  effective,  and 
the  whole  piece  turns  on  those  home  feelings,  those 
bitterest  realities  of  everyday  life,  that  wring  one's  heart, 
beyond  the  pain  that  one  allows  works  of  fiction  to 
excite.  ...  I  cried  most  bitterly  during  the  whole  piece; 
for  as  in  his  very  first  scene  Wallack  asks  his  wife  if 
she  wUl  go  with  him  to  America,  and  she  replies, 
"What!  leave  the  farm?"  I  set  off  from  thence,  and 
ceased  no  more.  The  manager's  wife  and  another 
woman  were  in  the  box,  which  was  his,  and  I  thought 
we  should  have  carried  away  the  front  of  it  with  our 
tears.  Wallack  played  admirably;  I  had  never  seen  him 
before,  and  was  greatly  delighted  with  his  acting.  I 
thought  him  handsome  of  a  rustic  kind,  the  very  thing 
for  the  part  he  played,  a  fine  English  yeoman;  he  re- 
minded me  of .  At  the  end  of  the  play  came  home 

with  a  tremendous  headache.  .  .  . 

From  1834  to  1836  Wallack  was  acting  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Atlantic ;  but  notwithstanding,  his  inter- 
ests were  becoming  more  and  more  American,  and 
his  enthusiasm  was  so  far  awakened  as  to  prompt 
him  to  offer  a  prize  of  one  thousand  dollars  for  a 
play,  to  be  written  by  a  native  dramatist ;  in  the  New 
York  Mirror,  a  letter  dated  May  28,  1836,  served 
as  the  announcement.  It  was  addressed  to  George  P. 
Morris,  Esq.,  from  the  packet-ship  "Sheffield,"  and 
emphasized  the  fact  that  the  subject  must  be  Amer- 
ican, with  a  prominent  character  for  himself, 
"adapted  to  me  and  my  dramatick  capabilities,  such 
as  they  may  happen  to  be."  Some  believe  that  N.  P. 

205 


^M^  Willis's  "Tortesa,  the  Usurer,"  given  its  first  pro- 

lyt^clllBCli]^    duction  on  April  8,  1839,  was  the  belated  result. 

On  September  4,  1837,  the  New  York  National 
Theatre,  at  the  southwest  comer  of  Church  and 
Leonard  streets,  the  first  Wallack  theatre  in  history, 
though  not  in  name,  passed  under  the  actor's  regime, 
with  his  brother  Henry  as  stage-manager.  James  H. 
Hackett  had,  in  1836,  bought  the  house,  with  Mr. 
Mauran,  a  merchant,  and  they  now  leased  the  prop- 
erty to  Wallack.  Here  Charlotte  Cushmian  played, 
and  Charles  Kean  was  booked  to  appear  as  Richard 
HI,  on  the  evening  of  September  23,  1839,  when  the 
house  was  burned  down,  forcing  Wallack  to  move 
with  his  company  to  Niblo's  Garden,  for  a  short 
season. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  was  again  in  England,  this 
time,  August  30,  1840,  stage-manager  of  the  Lon- 
don Haymarket;  shortly  after,  on  September  nth, 
he  appeared  in  "The  Road  to  Ruin,"  as  Young 
Dornton  to  the  Domton  of  Phelps.  Once  more  he 
went  to  Dublin  (1841)  and  then  back  to  the  Hay- 
market,  from  which  he  left  to  act  a  short  while  in 
New  York,  during  1843-44,  at  the  Park  Theatre.  That 
same  season  he  returned  to  London,  playing  at  the 
Princess  Theatre  in  Gilbert  k  Beckett's  and  Mark 
Lemon's  adaptation  of  "Don  Caesar  de  Bazan." 
Until  he  finally  came  to  the  decision  of  remaining  in 
New  York  altogether,  Wallack  was  a  mere  will-o'- 
the-wisp,  thinking  nothing  of  crossing  and  recrossing 
the  ocean;  and  he  found  himself  regarded  by  the 
public  as  a  remarkable  sea-traveller.  It  was  he  to 
whom  all  eyes  turned  for  a  shadow  of  comfort  and 
assurance,  when  news — at  first  uncertain — reached 
land  that  the  ill-fated  "President"  had  gone  down, 
with  Tyrone  Power  aboard. 

In  1845  Wallack  was  again  at  the  Park  —  and  tour- 
ing all  of  the  important  cities  in  the  States ;  yet  active 
though  he  was,  he  did  not  neglect  the  comforts  of 
206 


his  American  country  home,  which  he  called  "The  ,0pt*j^ 
Hut,"  and  where  he  was  often  able  to  dispense  hos-  ^*)^ 
pitality  to  many  a  brilUant  gathering  of  friends.  This  ^^^UaCfejS 
family  knew  what  it  was  to  live  lavishly ;  Lester  de- 
lighted in  the  pleasures  of  a  yacht. 
Finally  the  year  1851  arrived ;  then  it  was  that,  at  the 
Haymarket  Theatre,  the  elder  Wallack,  as  he  was 
called,  to  distinguish  him  from  his  son,  presented  his 
nephew,  James  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  and  made  his  last 
appearance  before  a  London  audience  as  St.  Pierre  in 
Kxiowles's  "The  Wife."  He  had  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion to  settle  definitely  in  New  York. 
The  outcome  of  this  last  decision  was  the  up-building 
from  the  financial  wreck  of  John  Brougham's  Ly- 
ceum— whose  checkered  career  had  stretched  from 
December  23,  1850,  to  March  17,  1852  — of  the  first 
Wallack's  Theatre  to  be  so-called  [Wallack's  Ly- 
ceum]. For  the  remainder  of  his  life  the  actor 
was  closely  identified  with  the  management  of  his 
houses,  and  he  worked  with  tact.  The  very  first  day, 
before  the  lease  contracts  were  signed,  he  was  called 
upon  to  exercise  his  ingenuity.  The  owner  of  the 
property,  which  was  situated  near  the  southwest 
comer  of  Broome  Street,  on  Broadway,  was  a  Major 
Rogers,  whose  business  sagacity  and  consequent 
demands  had  overstepped  the  rental  bounds  which 
Wallack  was  willing  to  consider.  The  two  were  stand- 
ing in  the  auditorium,  the  empty  seats  looking  deso- 
late and  drear — nothing  is  so  disillusioning  as  an 
empty  theatre  beneath  the  dusty  light  of  day! 
"Well,"  said  Wallack,  "will  you  agree  to  my  fig- 
ures?" "No,  no,"  exclaimed  the  major,  "preposter- 
ous!" Wallack  turned  to  the  yawning  seats,  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  a  dignity  to  his  carriage  which 
won  for  him  among  his  theatrical  kin  the  appella- 
tion of  "Handsome  Jem"  — Wallack  turned  and 
spoke :  "Ladies  and  Gentlemen,"  he  began,  and  to  his 
imaginary  audience  he  outlined  the  difl&culties  con- 

207 


'^\\t  fronting   him,  explained   his  ambitions — all  in   so 

^  vivid  a  way  that  when  he  finished  the  major  found 

H^BllnCftjS    himself  applauding.  "Good !"  he  said.  "Come,  let's 
sign  the  papers  at  your  price !" 

So  it  was  that  the  new  home  was  opened  on  Sep- 
tember 8,  1852,  with  Morton's  "The  Way  to  Get 
Married,"  and  the  stock  company  comprised,  besides 
himself,  his  son  Lester,  W.  R.  Blake,  John  Brough- 
am, Malonia  Pray  (afterward  Mrs.  W.  J.  Flor- 
ence), and  Laura  Keene.  The  latter  remained  but  a 
short  while,  leaving  finally  to  open  a  theatre  of  her 
own. 

The  manager  took  a  benefit  on  May  29,  1855 ;  For- 
rest, usually  averse  to  the  custom  prevalent,  appeared 
with  E.  L.  Davenport,  on  the  occasion,  in  "Damon  and 
Pjrthias."  This  matter  of  benefits  so  completely  prej- 
udiced Lester  Wallack  that  when  he  finally  assumed 
control  of  matters  he  abolished  the  privilege,  though 
he  himself  was  destined  to  be  given  one  of  the  largest 
in  stage  history. 

At  the  Academy  of  Music,  on  November  20,  1855, 
"The  Merchant  of  Venice"  was  presented  with  Wal- 
lack as  Shylock,  supported  by  Madame  Ponisi,  Henry 
Placide,  and  others,  while  the  after-piece  was  a  con- 
densed version  of  "The  School  for  Scandal"  with 
Blake,  Lester  Wallack,  Brougham,  Charles  Fisher, 
T.  Placide,  and  Mrs.  Julia  Dean  Hayne  in  the  cast. 
When,  in  1861,  James  W.  Wallack  came  up  to  the 
Thirteenth  Street  Theatre  on  Broadway  and  started 
another  house,  his  course,  as  an  active  person,  was 
wellnigh  ended.  On  the  opening  night,  September 
25th,  Tom  Taylor's  "The  New  President,"  an  apt 
title,  in  viev/  of  the  march  of  historical  events,  was 
presented.  Lester  was  in  the  cast,  having  assumed 
his  real  name  for  the  first  time.  Even  before  this, 
however,  Wallack  had  ceased  to  play,  his  last  original 
role  of  Colonel  Delmar,  in  his  son's  drama,  "The  Vet- 
eran," being  studied  early  in  1859,  while  on  May  14, 
208 


i859,  he  appeared  for  the  final  time  as  Benedick  in    '^l^C 
"Much  Ado  About  Nothing."  W^ll^Ck^ 

Then,  in  1862,  he  stepped  before  the  curtain  to  de-  ^o-HaVnp 
liver  a  short  address.  After  this  he  Uved  in  com- 
parative retirement,  often  unable  to  move,  so  great 
was  his  suffering  from  gout ;  and  Charles  J.  Mathews, 
always  cheerful,  would  come  to  his  bedside  and 
chat  with  him — the  great  Mathews,  who  was  not  too 
great  to  join  Lester's  stock  company  during  the 
season  of  1872-73 — a  fact  which  shows  a  certain 
spontaneous,  generous  spirit  on  the  part  of  "young" 
Wallack,  who  was  then  well  on  in  life  himself. 
On  Christmas  day,  1864,  James  W.  Wallack  died  at 
his  home,  210  East  Fourteenth  Street.  The  records  of 
this  actor  speak  of  his  voice,  rich  and  sonorous,  all 
the  more  attractive  because  his  articulation  was  clear ; 
of  his  rapid  movements  which  filled  the  whole  stage ; 
and  of  his  temperament,  which  was  keenly  and  ner- 
vously aUve.  As  he  was  on  the  stage,  so  he  was  off, 
the  dramatic  always  in  evidence.  His  comedy  was 
characterized  by  its  ease  and  grace;  active  at  most 
times,  yet  the  quality  of  repose  was  not  stranger  to  his 
methods,  and  the  dash  and  spirit  which  prompted  his 
actions — very  well  depicted  in  the  sketches  of  him 
made  by  the  famed  artist  Millais — were  tempered  by 
a  soft  strain  of  tenderness. 

Opinions  differ  greatly  concerning  Wallack's  relative 
merit  as  an  actor.  Originality  was  often  denied  him. 
One  would  speak  of  him  as  belonging  to  the  school  of 
Kemble;  another  v/ould  point  to  EUiston  as  the 
source  of  all  his  art.  Thackeray  liked  his  Shylock, 
Macready  preferred  his  Charalois ;  Sheridan  Knowles 
laid  stress  on  his  Master  Walter,  which  was  played  to 
the  Julia  of  Charlotte  Cushman ;  Miss  Kemble  wept 
over  his  "Rent  Day,"  and  Oxberry  estimated  his 
tragedy  as  indifferent.  "It  was  remarked  of  him," 
wrote  Ireland,  "that  he  was  first  in  his  line,  but  that 
his  line  was  not  the  first."  WilHam  Winter  has  said: 

209 


Vi'lJC  He  particularly  shone  in  comedy.  His  distinguishing 

'S\%    II       t  fi  characteristic  in  this  field  was  the  easy,  graceful,  spar- 

zJt^(lll(lCtij3  klingj  winning  brilliancy  with  which  he  executed  his 

artistic  designs.  .  .  .  Nobody  could  doubt  or  dispute  the 
clearly  defined  purpose,  or  the  pervasive  animation,  or 
the  affluent,  copious,  picturesque  grace  and  variety  of 
execution,  with  which  his  artistic  purpose  was  ful- 
filled. .  .  .  He  was  everywhere  at  once,  in  such  a  part  as 
Benedick  or  Don  Felix,  and  he  filled  the  scene  with 
pictorial  vitality,  and  dazzled  the  observer  with  the 
opulence  of  his  enjo3Tnent.  He  was  alive  to  the  tips  of 
bis  fingers,  and  he  was  entirely  in  earnest. 

The  manager  showed  many  of  the  characteristics  of 
the  actor;  in  his  stage  directing,  Wallack  was  pro- 
gressive, seeking  to  utilize  the  latest  improvements, 
and  arranging  all  of  his  pictures  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. For  he  was  particular  as  to  the  quaUty  of  the 
work  done,  and  were  there  a  comedian  wanted,  he 
needs  must  be  of  the  highest  type.  The  general  ex- 
cellence of  a  company  was  thus  raised  to  a  point 
which,  maintained  by  Lester,  ceased  to  exist  when 
the  latter  had  retired. 

James  William  Wallack  was  a  detail  actor ;  we  have 
already  seen  what  E.  A.  Sothem  gained  from  his 
schooling.  Here  was  one  who  could  play  Shylock  and 
Don  Caesar ;  the  melancholy  Jacques,  and  Benedick ; 
who,  to  his  romantic  touches,  could  add  what  was  the 
characteristic  quaUty  of  all  the  Wallacks — a  melo- 
dramatic fervor. 

James  H.  Hackett  has  sketched  an  early  portrait  of 
this  actor : 

His  figure  and  bearing  were  very  distingue;  his  eye 
was  sparkling;  his  hair  dark,  curly,  and  luxuriant;  his 
facial  features  finely  chiselled;  and,  together  with  the 
natural  conformation  of  his  head,  throat  and  chest, 
Mr.  Wallack  presented  a  remarkable  specimen  of  manly 
beauty. 

To  this  may  be  added  another  portrait,  penned  by 
Mr.  Winter : 

210 


LETTER    WALLACK 


His  image,  at  the  last,  is  that  of  a  slight,  erect,  agile       '^Tl^ 
figure,  clad  in  black,  the  face  very  pale,  the  features       ^'^V''^ 
sharply  defined  and  handsome,  the  eyes  large,  dark,       ^^^.ITfirftrt 
and  brilUant,  the  hair  abundant  and  as  white  as  snow,       fiCC**VC*H*p 
the    head  and  carriage  intellectual  and    stately,  the 
smile  ready  and  sweet,  and  the  whole  demeanor  placid 
and  charming  with  natural  and  perfect  refinement. 

Since  1817  Wallack  had  been  married  to  (some  ac- 
comits  say  he  eloped  with)  the  daughter  of  John 
Johnstone,  an  Irish  singer  of  sweet  quaUty  and  pop- 
ular manner ;  the  young  Mrs,  Wallack  brought  with 
her  a  dowry  of  ;/^20,ooo.  While  occasional  mention  is 
made  of  her,  her  father  was  by  far  the  more  inter- 
esting person.  He  had  served  in  the  British  army. 
"He  was,"  said  WiUiam  Stuart,  "what  is  termed  in 
Ireland,  *a  gentleman  by  birth,'  coming  from  fine 
old  stock  in  Kilkenny,  famed,  Uke  Argos  of  old,  for  its 
noble  steeds  and  lovely  women,  and,  by  remarkable 
coincidence,  the  native  county  also  of  Power."  * 
Like  Power,  Johnstone  was,  to  use  Florence's  terms, 
"a  splendid  gentleman,  a  ripe  scholar,  an  admirable 
actor,"  and  his  success,  first  started  with  his  role, 
Captain  Macheath,  in  the  "Beggar's  Opera,"  won  for 
him  a  place  of  honor  among  the  motley  companions 
of  the  wild  Prince.  So  intimate  was  he  with  royalty 
that  he  would  often  receive  such  peremptory  orders  as 
the  following : 

Carle  ton  House,  Wednesday. 

Dear  Johnstone : 

The  Prince  wishes  you  to  come  to  Carleton  House 

to-night.  Moore  and  Sheridan  will  be  there.  If  you  have 

to  play,  you  must  sham  sick. 

Yours  ever, 

Farquhar. 

When  George  IV  came  to  the  throne,  Farquhar  was 
appointed  his  equerry.  Around  1867,  Lester  Wallack 

*  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Power  was   born  in  the  county  of 
Waterford. 

211 


^T"!!^  was  in  London,  and  he  went  with  Florence  to  St. 

^  Paul's  churchyard,  and   exclaimed:  "Here,  my  ma- 

3i2^^llBCH0  ternal  grandfather.  Jack  Johnstone,  the  Irish  come- 
dian and  an  intimate  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  lies 
buried." 

In  early  years,  when  James  Wallack  made  his  first 
trip  to  America,  his  brother  Henry  was  acting  in 
Baltimore  (1818).  Some  playbills  give  as  the  initial 
date  in  America,  May  9,  1821,  and  the  Anthony 
Street  Theatre,  New  York,  as  the  place.  His  role  was 
Young  Norval.  [He  was  bom  in  London  in  1790,  and 
died  in  New  York,  August  30,  1870.]  At  Drury  Lane, 
on  October  26,  1829,  he  was  Julius  Caesar  to  the 
Marc  Antony  of  his  brother,  and  subsequently  became 
stage-manager  of  Covent  Garden.  At  another  time 
he  managed  the  Old  Chatham  Theatre.  His  career  as 
an  actor,  while  not  pronounced,  was  varied  in  its 
character  portraits,  and  stamped  chiefly  by  its  melo- 
dramatic qualities :  "The  Man  With  the  Iron  Mask," 
"Hamlet,"  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  Coriolanus,  Squire 
Broadlands,  in  "A  Country  Squire,"  and  Anthony 
Absolute.  He  was  married  twice,  having  divorced  his 
first  wife,  Miss  Fanny  Jones.  She  was  a  danseuse  of 
considerable  ability,  and  as  a  soubrette  was  popular 
in  farces  and  after-pieces. 

The  second  Mrs.  Henry  Wallack,  who  was  a  Miss 
Turpin,  was  born  in  Liverpool,  and  made  her  debut 
in  1830,  at  the  Haymarket,  where  she  played  Polly 
in  the  "  Beggar's  Opera."  Her  American  appearance 
was  at  the  Arch  Street  Theatre,  on  June  19,  1837 ;  in 
May,  i860,  she  was  playing  under  the  name  Mrs. 
Anderson,  and  while  in  London  during  that  year  she 
died  very  suddenly,  on  July  18th.  Her  fame  rested 
chiefly  on  her  beautiful  voice. 

By  his  first  marriage  Henry  Wallack  was  the  father 
of  two  daughters  and  a  son,  ail  known  to  the  stage. 
Julia,  who  was  a  Mrs.  W.  Hoskins,  and  who  at  one 
period  acted  in  London  as  Julia  Harland,  and  Fanny, 
212 


who  became  Mrs.  Charles  Moorhouse,  made  their  'flThr 
debuts  with  their  father,  in  "The  Hunchback,"  at  " 
the  New  Chatham  Theatre,  on  December  23,  1839.  ^SiUBCl^JSl 
JuUa  was  best  noted  for  her  music,  which  found  ex- 
pression in  EngUsh  and  Itahan  opera.  Her  sister 
exceeded  her  in  range  and  excellence.  During  the 
season  of  1847-48,  she  was  leading  lady  at  the  old 
Broadway  Theatre,  a  house  on  the  east  side  of  Broad- 
way (326),  between  Pearl  and  Worth  streets.  It  was 
a  crude  but  large  place,  seating  4,500  persons,  and 
usually  filled  to  overflowing,  since  the  admission  was 
but  twenty-five  cents.  However  fine  the  programme, 
comfort  existed  at  a  minimum,  since  the  seats  were 
but  ordinary  benches,  not  even  graced  with  backs. 
In  1 85 1  Fanny  Wallack  was  in  the  company  of  Mrs. 
Mowatt,  and  the  following  year  was  supporting  E. 
Eddy.  Her  repertoire  consisted  of  such  characters  as 
Juliet,  Mrs.  Haller  in  "The  Stranger,"  Ophelia, 
JuUa  in  "The  Hunchback,"  Elizabeth  in  "Richard 
III,"  and  Nancy  Sikes.  While  filUng  an  engagement 
under  Burton,  she  played  Rosalind.  Her  death  oc- 
curred in  Edinburgh,  on  October  12,  1856.  As  an 
actress,  Ireland  considered  her  "graceful,  spirited, 
pretty,  and  Uke  all  the  Wallacks,  extremely  pict- 
uresque in  attitude  and  action." 
But  far  more  famous  than  either  of  his  sisters,  and 
more  active  and  versatile  than  his  father,  was  J.  W. 
Wallack,  Jr.  ("Jim"),  a  young  man  who  soon  won 
the  approbation  of  his  uncle,  after  whom  he  was 
named.  He  was  bom  in  London  on  February  24,  1815, 
and  was  on  the  stage  at  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre 
when  scarce  four  years  old,  as  Cora's  Child  in 
"Pizarro."  In  1836-37  he  went  to  the  New  York 
National,  under  Tom  Flynn;  at  this  place  he  first 
began  to  attract  attention  in  roles  of  dash  that 
demanded  bearing  and  spirit.  But  if  accounts  are  to 
be  believed,  he  did  not  find  recognition  an  easy 
matter ;  in  his  youth,  so  some  claim,  he  was  passing 

213 


Zl)t 


awkward —  a  natural  flaw  which  few  of  the  Wallacks 
possessed.  Jefferson  does  not  hold  to  this  description, 
ll^clllclCltjS  for  when  he  saw  the  actor  in  these  early  days,  he  was 
"young,  vigorous,  and  handsome.  He  was  .  .  .  most 
romantic-looking  .  .  . ;  there  was  a  dash  and  spirit 
in  his  carriage,  too,  that  was  charming.  I  say  he  was 
at  his  best  in  those  days,  because  in  after-years,  the 
acting  of  Macready,  whom  as  an  artist  he  idoUzed, 
had  an  unfortunate  influence  upon  him,  as  he  ulti- 
mately became  imbued  with  the  mannerisms  of  the 
EngUsh  tragedian,  which  were  so  marked  that  they 
marred  the  natural  grace  of  the  imitator." 
On  the  evening  of  March  8,  1851,  young  Wallack 
was  at  the  London  Haymarket,  playing  Othello. 
Afterwards  he  managed  the  Marylebone  Theatre, 
where  his  wife  acted  in  Shakespeare ;  and  he,  with  an 
English  company,  crossed  the  Channel  to  Paris.  In 
1852  he  was  back  in  America  at  the  Philadelphia 
Arch  Street  Theatre,  appearing  as  Macbeth  on  No- 
vember 8th ;  then  joining  a  strolling  company  in  Cali- 
fornia, and  after  that  entering  into  a  brilliant  asso- 
ciation with  E.  L.  Davenport,  during  which  his  Fagin 
in  "OUver  Twist,"  and  Henry  Dunbar  in  "The  Man 
With  the  Iron  Mask,"* were  speedily  recognized,  after 
which  he  became  an  integral  part  of  Wallack's  stock 
company.  In  1870  he  was  filling  time  at  the  Boston 
Globe  Theatre,  and  then  turned  to  Booth's  Theatre, 
where  he  attracted  notice  by  his  personation  of 
Mathias  in  "The  Bells."  At  one  time  he  supported 
Adelaide  Neilson,  playing  Mercutio  and  Jacques. 
Young  Wallack  had  married,  around  1842,  a  Mrs. 
Sefton,  who  was  otherwise  known  as  Miss  Ann 
Waring,  and  through  this  alliance  the  Wallacks 
might  claim  a  very  indirect  connection  with  several 
other  actor-famiUes.  Leigh  Waring,  the  lady's  fa- 
ther, played  at  the  New  York  Park,  as  Rover  in  "Wild 
Oats,"  on  May  20,  1812.  Two  years  after,  on  June  23, 
1814,  he  married  Caroline  Placide,  and  in  1815  Ann 
214 


was  bom.  Mr.  Waring  died  in  1817,  and  in  1826  his    'flTTifr 
widow  married  the  actor,  W.  R.  Blake.  At  a  benefit  ^ 

given  to  these  two,  at  the  Chatham  Garden  Theatre,  3^^ll3C6)3 
on  September  27,  1828,  Miss  Waring  appeared  as 
Amanthis  in  "The  Child  of  Nature."  T.  A.  Cooper 
was  the  manager.  One  interesting  source  contradicts 
this  date  as  her  first  appearance,  and  places  that 
event  on  the  evening  of  January  6,  1829,  when,  at 
the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  she  acted  a  role,  Emily, 
in  "Family  Jars."  Barnes  was  the  chief  person  in  the 
cast,  the  story  runs,  and  so  stage-struck  was  the  poor 
girl  that  she  had  to  be  led  from  the  boards.  But  it  is 
more  probable  that  she  was  seen  first  under  the  tute- 
lage of  her  stepfather.  By  May  20,  1829,  Miss  Waring 
was  with  J.  H.  Hackett's  company,  when  he  assumed 
control  of  the  Chatham  Theatre,  then  called  The 
American  Opera  House.  By  August  2,  1830,  Hackett 
and  Hamblin  were  managing  the  Bowery  Theatre, 
and  here  Miss  Waring  again  joined  the  stock  com- 
pany. In  1836  she  was  playing  Jane  Shore,  and 
supporting  Charlotte  Cushman.  It  is  most  interest- 
ing to  recall  the  estimate  put  by  Jefferson  on  her 
work,  after  her  second  marriage,  in  comparison  with 
Cushman,  He  wrote  in  his  "Autobiography" : 

All  who  remember  Mrs.  James  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  will 
attest  the  force  of  her  tragic  acting.  In  the  quality  of 
queenly  dignity,  I  think  she  even  surpassed  Charlotte 
Cushman,  though  she  lacked,  perhaps,  the  spirit  and 
fire  of  the  latter. 

On  March  19,  1837,  Miss  Waring  was  married  to 
William  Sefton,  whose  popularity  as  an  actor  was 
greatly  increased  by  his  association  with  his  brother, 
John  Sefton. 

When  J.  W.  Wallack  assumed  control  of  the  Na- 
tional Theatre,  Mrs.  Sefton  joined  the  company,  on 
September  4,  1837.  She  was  playing  Emilia  to  his 
Othello  on  October  24th.  The  next  year,  beginning 

215 


'5ri)C  July  28th,  she  transferred  to  the  Franklin  Theatre, 

which  was  under  the  management  of  Blake,  and 

K^allaCHJSl     there  played  Claude  Melnotte  to  the  PauUne  of  Mrs. 
George  Barrett. 

During  that  season  Mrs.  Sefton  appeared  as  Her- 
mione  to  Forrest's  Damon,  and  on  January  25,  1839, 
became  the  original  Smike  in  "Nicholas  Nickleby." 
This  engagement  of  1839-40  was  diversified.  She 
played  Servia  with  Forrest  as  Virginius ;  and  when  the 
National  was  destroyed  by  fire  on  October  i,  1839,  she 
went  over  to  Niblo's  Garden  with  the  company,  acting 
the  Queen  in  a  performance  of  "Hamlet,"  with  John 
Vandenhoff  as  the  lead.  In  1839,  also,  Sefton  died, 
and  around  1842  his  widow  married  Wallack.  On 
April  27,  1842,  for  a  278th  anniversary  of  Shake- 
speare's birth,  Mrs.  Ann  Sefton  played  Romeo  with 
Mrs.  Melinda  Jones  as  her  Juliet.  The  alliance  with 
Wallack,  if  it  occurred  this  year  at  all  (some  sources 
give  a  latitude  circa  1841-44),  must  have  been 
after  the  performance  above  mentioned.  Mrs.  Wal- 
lack was  now  often  seen  with  her  husband,  the  two 
presenting  "The  Lady  of  Lyons"  on  April  25,  1845. 
When  William  Stuart  was  managing  the  Broome 
Street  Theatre  during  June,  1857,  Mrs.  Wallack's 
repertoire  consisted  of  Bianca,  Romeo,  and  Lady 
Gay  Spanker.  She  died  on  February  ii,  1879. 
The  acting  of  this  lady  was  of  an  exceptional  order. 
Her  person  was  shaped  for  tragedy,  though  she  seems 
to  have  been  kept  from  being  great  by  certain  idio- 
syncrasies ("Bowery  mannerisms,"  Ireland  called 
them)  which  destroyed  her  grace,  and  made  one  feel 
the  lack  of  her  refinement.  "She  had  too  much  en- 
ergy and  fire,"  said  one.  "We  hke  her  mirth  better 
than  her  melancholy,"  said  another. 
Regarding  the  other  members  of  the  elder  Wallack's 
family,  Mary  assumed  heavy  parts,  and  came  to 
America,  where,  as  Mrs.  Hill,  she  appeared  at  the 
Chatham  Theatre,  on  June  11, 1827.  Elizabeth  never 
216 


reached  this  country,  but  married  a  showman  by   '^l^t 
the  name  of  Pincott;  they  had  a  daughter,  Leonora,    ^fllTarftrt 
who  was  a  rope-dancer  and  a  fancy  performer  on    »»^»**»*'»P 
stilts,  and  who  bettered  her  station  somewhat  by 
marrying  the  actor,  Alfred  Wigan. 
The  direct  descendant  of  the  Wallack  tradition,  how- 
ever, was  John  Johnstone  Wallack,  who  was  bom  at 
midnight   on   December   31,    1819    (Varick   Street, 
New  York),  so  near  the  verge  of  either  day  that  it 
was  uncertain  whether  he  did  not  arrive  as  a  New 
Year's  gift ;  a  doubt  set  at  rest  by  himself  in  after- 
years  (1848),  since  he  adopted  the  date  January  i, 
1820,  the   day  being  his  wife's   anniversary  also. 
Educated  in  England,  we  hear  in  his  own  words, 
how  he  became  drawn  to  the  stage. 

♦'My  first  experience  on  any  stage,"  so  he  wrote  in  his 
"Memories,"  "was  at  an  establishment  at  Mitcham,  in 
Surrey,  called  Baron  House  Academy,  a  fine  old  man- 
sion which  had  become  a  private  school.  Colman's 
'Heir-at-Law'  was  produced  immediately  before  the 
begirming  of  the  summer  holidays,  upon  an  improvised 
stage  in  the  school-room,  with  the  English  usher  as 
prompter  and  general  manager.  As  a  son  of  'the  cele- 
brated Mr.  Wallack,'  it  was  felt  proper,  naturally,  that 
I  should  take  part,  and  between  the  acts,  I  was  billed 
for  the  speech  from  Home's  tragedy  of  'Douglas' — 
'My  name  is  Norval' — although  I  was  only  ten  years  of 
age.  I  was  dressed  in  a  red  tunic  trimmed  with  fur, 
white  trousers  and  red  shoes,  and  carried  a  round 
wooden  shield,  and  a  wooden  sword,  painted  blue.  As 
for  the  lines,  I  suppose  I  must  have  painted  them  red." 

This  then  was  his  entrance  to  a  profession  which  was 
by  no  means  the  choice  made  for  him  by  his  parents. 
The  family  were  well  known,  and  the  elder  Wallack 
had  many  influential  friends,  among  whom  could  be 
counted  the  Duke  of  Beaufort ;  hence  a  commission  in 
the  army  was  offered  to  young  Lester.  The  boy  was 
a  great  favorite,  and  his  leaving  home  was  put  off 
from  time  to  time  until  he  had  reached  the  age  of 

217 


3li^allac!i)3 


vTyC  twenty-two.  Then  he  himself  came  to  a  decision;  he 

had  passed  the  year  when  the  usual  entrance  was 
made,  and  now  he  would  not  go.  It  is  more  than  like- 
ly his  inclination,  rather  than  his  diffidence,  brought 
him  to  this  stand.  Two  of  his  brothers,  however, 
filled  commissions,  Henry  as  a  captain,  serving  in  the 
Sikh  campaign,  and  Charles  in  the  Indian  army. 
The  latter  died  in  New  York;  the  former  served 
as  governor  of  the  Millbank  Penitentiary,  London, 
besides  being  gentleman-at-arms  in  Buckingham 
Palace. 

Once  decided  in  his  mind,  it  did  not  take  Lester  long 
to  place  himself  on  the  boards.  There  are  contradic- 
tory data  as  to  when  his  first  appearance  occurred. 
Some  would  say  that  after  the  burning  of  the  Na- 
tional Theatre  in  1839,  when  his  father  went  to 
England,  the  son,  adopting  the  name  of  Allan  Field, 
played  with  him  as  Angelo  in  Willis's  "Tortesa,  the 
Usurer,"  besides  appearing  as  Macduff  and  Rich- 
mond. Others  would  claim  that  he  opened  in 
Rochester,  England,  as  the  Earl  of  Rochester,  in 
John  Howard  Payne's  "Charles  II,"  which  Charles 
Kemble  and  Fawcett  were  presenting  under  the 
management  of  Henry  Wallack.  Such  an  existence 
as  usually  befell  a  beginner  must  have  befallen 
Lester  as  well ;  he  would  not  take  advantage  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  the  son  of  "the  great  Wallack.'* 
Travelling  by  coach,  he  would  often  be  forced  to 
study  a  new  part  while  rolling  along  over  the  un- 
even roadway,  sitting  up  the  whole  night,  in  order  to 
be  "letter  perfect"  for  rehearsal  the  next  morning. 
There  are  two  other  points  worthy  of  consideration : 
one,  that  the  first  appearance  did  not  really  occur 
until  1842,  when  Lester  assumed  the  role  of  Don 
Pedro,  while  his  father  was  acting  Benedick;  the 
other,  that  somewhere  between  this  date  and  1847, 
when  he  first  played  in  New  York,  he  made  a  social 
visit  to  America.  That  initial  performance  or  ap- 
218 


pearance,  was  literally  a  disappearance,  for  at  the     -^^ 
Broadway  Theatre,    managed    by   George    Barrett     \Lt^t 
(September  27,  1847),  he  fell  through  a  trap-door    l^allECfejS 
while  plajdng  Sir  Charles  Coldstream,  in  "Used  Up," 
a  farce,  well  named  in  view  of  such  a  mishap.  During 
this  season  of  1847-48  he  took  such  roles  as  Cap- 
tain   Absolute,  Sir   Frederick   Blount   in   Bulwer's 
"Money,"  Osric   to   Murdoch's   Hamlet,  and  then 
Mercutio.  But  before  this  young  Wallack  had  ob- 
tained elsewhere  a  most  Uberal  training. 
For  instance,  at  Manchester,  he  had  his  first  experi- 
ence as  Benedick  to  the  inspiring  Beatrice  of  Helen 
Faucit,  a  woman  of  superlative  grace  and  charm, 
and  one  whose  intellect  did  much  for  the  drama ;  her 
association  with  Macready  afforded  her  a  generous 
outlet  for  the  exercise  of  her  talents.  When  Wallack 
played  with  her,  G.  V.  Brooke,  he  of  the  stentorian 
voice,  was  her  lead.  The  young  actor  wrote  of  her : 

She  gave  me  more  encouragement  than  I  had  ever 
received  before,  and  the  patience  with  which  she  re- 
hearsed, for  I  was  young  and  inexperienced  then,  was 
remarkable.  She  did  what  must  have  been  very  irksome 
to  her,  and  went  over  our  scenes  again  and  again  with 
me,  until  I  got  my  part  in  some  kind  of  shape;  and  it 
was  through  her  kindness  that  I  made  something  of  a 
hit 

Wallack  had  even,  in  1845,  unexpectedly  assumed 
the  role  of  Mercutio,  when  Charlotte  Cushman 
played  Romeo  to  her  sister's  JuUet,  thereby  winning 
due  praise  from  the  great  tragedienne,  who  spoke  of 
him,  behind  his  back,  as  "the  coming  young  man," 
thinking  to  arouse  the  interest  of  Ben  Webster  of  the 
Haymarket.  To  Wallack,  however,  she  was  much 
bolder  in  her  statements:  "There  is  a  great  future 
before  you,"  she  said,  in  her  masculine  manner,  "if 
you  take  care,  and  do  not  let  your  vanity  run  away 
with  you."  Just  before  leaving  England  he  was  cast 

219 


Cljc 


in  "London  Assurance"  as  Dazzle,  a  part  originally 
assumed  by  Charles  Mathews. 
3y^flll3Cfe)3  Thereafter  Lester  Wallack  steadily  rose  in  public 
favor  as  a  player,  a  dramatist,  and  a  manager.  Flor- 
ence remembered  him  at  the  outset  of  his  American 
career.  "He  was  tall,  straight  as  an  Indian,  graceful 
and  distinguished  in  appearance,  with  piercing  black 
eyes,  [and]  an  abundance  of  jet-black  hair." 
At  the  Chatham  Theatre,  1848,  the  dramatization  of 
"Monte  Cristo"  gave  him  scope  for  the  active  part  of 
Edmund  Dantes,  which  had  a  long  and  successful 
run.  During  1849  he  presented  to  the  public  two  of 
his  own  pieces :  "The  Three  Guardsmen"  (November 
12th),  with  himself  (still  as  Mr.  Lester),  the  d'Artag- 
nan ;  J,  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  the  Athos ;  and  John  Gilbert, 
the  Porthos.  This  was  followed  by  his  "The  Four 
Musketeers,  or  Ten  Years  After"  (December  24th). 
"It  was  from  *Monte  Cristo,'"  he  wrote,  "that  I  got 
what  celebrity  I  ever  had  in  melodramatic  charac- 
ters, and,  singular  to  say,  most  of  the  greatest  suc- 
cesses I  ever  had  were  in  parts  which  were  a  mixture 
of  the  serious  and  comic." 

Beginning  September  2,  1850,  Wallack  became  asso- 
ciated with  Burton's  Chambers  Street  Theatre,  and 
during  his  two  seasons'  stay  there  he  appeared  in 
many  parts,  the  most  worthy  being  Charles  Surface 
and  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek. 

From  this  time  on  his  career  was  one  with  the  thea- 
tres managed  by  his  father  and  himself,  both  up- 
holding high  aims,  both  making  daring  ventures. 
At  the  Broome  Street  house,  young  Wallack's  roles 
were  diverse:  Don  Pedro,  Orlando,  Bassanio,  The 
Debilitated  Cousin  in  "Bleak  House"  (October  13, 
1853) ;  besides  De  Rameau  in  his  own  play  "Two  to 
One,  or  The  King's  Visit"  (December  6,  1854) ;  Pev- 
eril,  in  his  comedy,  "First  Impressions"  (Septem- 
ber 17,  1856) ;  Leon  Delmar  in  his  "The  Veteran" 
(January  17,  1859) ;  Manuel  in  his  adaptation  of 
220 


National  Theatre 


Broadway  and   Broome  Street 


~~-^'_ 


rfr 


f=^'.*i^ 


rplT. 


-...li'^pV^'^'' 


Broadway  and   13th  Street  Broadway  and  30th  Street 

THE    WALLACK    THEATRES 


"The  Romance  of  a  Poor  Young  Man"  (January  24,  '^'h& 
i860);  and  finally  (February  14,  1861),  Wyndham  ^^"'^ 
Otis,  in  his  local  drama,  "Central  Park."  There  is  WM^CU^ 
reference  also  to  two  other  plays  by  him:  "The 
Fortunes  of  War,"  and  "Americans  in  Paris,"  which 
latter  was  written  in  collaboration. 
When  the  theatre  closed  on  April  29,  1861,  Lester 
was  in  the  cast  which  presented  "Jessie  Brown." 
Throughout  its  existence  this  house  had  maintained  a 
superlative  stock  company;  in  quick  succession  we 
find  mentioned  Laura  Keene  (1852),  E.  A.  Sothem 
(1854),  alias  "Douglas  Stuart,"  Henry  Placide  (1855), 
George  Holland  (1855),  Mary  Gannon  (1855),  Mrs. 
John  Wood  (1856),  Effie  Germon  (1858),  and  Made- 
leine Henriques  (i86o),  besides  John  Brougham. 
At  the  Thirteenth  Street  Theatre,  Lester  practically 
assumed  complete  charge ;  he  had,  until  this  time, 
called  himself  John  Lester,  but  now  he  adopted  his 
rightful  title,  and  began  that  poUcy  of  management 
which  moimted  plays  lavishly  and  assembled  brilUant 
casts.  He  himself  continually  assumed  new  charac- 
terizations; his  father  never  acted  in  this  theatre. 
He  met  success  as  Elliot  Grey  in  his  own  "Rose- 
dale"  (September  30,  1863),  a  play  which  was  the 
outcome  of  a  discussion  he  had  had  with  Thackeray, 
who  believed  that  a  "middle-aged  romance"  upon 
the  boards  would  fail  to  attract  the  pubUc  fancy. 
In  this  piece  the  ballad,  "Lord  Bateman  was  a 
noble  lord,"  became  a  part  of  the  play,  because  it 
was  a  favorite  of  the  actor's,  having  been  sung  to 
him  when  a  boy. 

Then  followed  Hugh  Chalcote  in  "Ours"  (December 
19,  1866) ;  Col.  John  White  in  "Home"  (December  8, 
1869);  Henry  Beauclerc  in  "Diplomacy"  (April  i, 
1878),  while  on  March  10,  1879,  he  played  Prosper 
Couramont  in  "A  Scrap  of  Paper." 
The  house  closed  on  April  11,  1881.  During  its 
history  it  had  gathered  together  a  host  of  notable 

221 


^1)0  names:  Charles  Fisher  (1861) ;  John  Gilbert  (1862) ; 

W);inj^rfJC<    E-  ^-  Davenport  (1865) ;  J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr.  (1865) ; 

Z2/aiiai^up  Charles  James  Mathews  (1872) ;  and  H.  J.  Montague 
(1874).  Here  also,  on  December  27, 1867,  was  given 
"Oliver  Twist,"  with  J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr.,  as  Fagin ; 
Davenport  as  Bill  Sikes;  Rose  Eytinge  as  Nancy; 
and  George  Holland  as  Bumble.  It  was  likewise  in 
the  office  of  this  theatre  that  Boucicault  first  discussed 
the  mounting  of  his  play,  "The  Shaughraun." 
The  Wallack  Theatre,  which  is  still  a  landmark  on 
Broadway  and  Thirtieth  Street,  was  opened  on  Jan- 
uary 4,  1882,  with  "The  School  for  Scandal";  Rose 
Coghlan  was  the  Lady  Teazle,  and  John  Gilbert  the  Sir 
Peter.  Wallack  was  in  control  until  October,  1887.  In 
those  five  years,  much  was  done  to  uphold  the  pres- 
tige of  former  fame ;  but  "young"  Wallack  was  ad- 
vancing in  years.  On  May  29,  1886,  he  made  his  last 
appearance  at  the  New  York  Grand  Opera  House  in 
"She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"  playing  Young  Marlow, 
with  Gilbert  and  Madame  Ponisi  as  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hardcastle. 

Thereafter  he  was  seen  but  once  in  public,  when, 
on  May  21,  1888,  he  made  a  curtain  speech  during 
his  famous  benefit.  It  was  an  historic  one  and  will 
ever  remain  so;  it  was  organized  and  managed  by 
Augustin  Daly  and  A.  M.  Palmer.  The  exceptional 
cast  for  "Hamlet,"  which  was  the  play  selected,  con- 
sisted of  the  following : 

Hamlet,  Edwin  Booth;  Ghost  of  Hamlet's  Father, 
Lawrence  Barrett;  King  Claudius, Frank  Mayo;Polo- 
nius,  John  Gilbert;  Laertes,  Eben  Plympton;  Horatio, 
John  A.  Lane;  Rosencranz,  Charles  Hanford;  Guilden- 
stern,  Lawrence  Hanley;  Osric,  Charles  Koehler;  Mar- 
cellus,  Edwin  H.  Vanderfelt ;  Bernardo,  Herbert  Kelcey ; 
Francisco,  Frank  Mordaunt;  First  Actor,  Joseph  Whee- 
lock;  Second  Actor,  Milnes  La vick ;  First  Gravedigger, 
Joseph  Jefferson ;  Second  Gravedigger,  W.  J.  Florence ; 
Priest,  Harry  Edwards;  Ophelia,  Helena  Modjeska; 
The  Queen,  Gertrude  Kellogg;  The  Player  Queen,  Rose 
Coghlan. 

222 


The  proceeds  realized  amounted  to  about  $21,000.  '^ht 
This  was  the  final  curtain  for  Lester  Wallack,  wh©  '^lajiarhii 
died  at  his  home  near  Stamford,  Connecticut,  on  ^ali»CaJ> 
September  6,  1888.  With  him  the  family  practically 
ends,  even  though  he  had  sons,  having  married,  in 
1848,  Emily  Mary  Millais,  the  eldest  sister  of  Sir  John 
E.  Millais.  One  of  these  sons,  Arthur,  was  associate 
manager  of  Wallack's  at  one  time,  and  had  dramatic 
aspirations.  A  daughter,  Florence,  became  Mrs.  Sew- 
ell.  Then  there  is  a  grandson,  who  calls  himself  Lester 
Wallack,  Jr.,  and  who  made  his  debut  at  Proctor's 
in  New  York,  playing  in  vaudeville  a  one-act  piece  en- 
titled "Comedy  and  Tragedy"  (February  7,  1898). 
When  the  name  Wallack  is  mentioned,  however,  it  is 
either  Lester  or  his  father,  or  his  cousin,  who  is  meant, 
for  they  stamped  the  family,  having  in  common  many 
marked  characteristics.  The  Wallack  theatres  are  a 
tradition  worth  heeding.  Criticise  them — and  the 
harsh  opinion  is  often  just — yet  without  them  it 
would  be  hard  to  reckon.  Col.  T.  Allston  Brown's  dis- 
paragement is  keenly  exact.  Lester  Wallack,  so  it  is 
claimed,  was  a  benefit  to  the  drama  at  large,  but  he 
did  nothing  to  advance  the  profession.  "Wallack's 
Theatre,"  writes  the  colonel,  "while  it  employed 
many  good  actors,  never  made  one."  Besides,  Lester, 
himself  prominent,  failed  to  encourage  the  young 
actor,  and  never  employed  the  native  writer.  What 
he  did,  which  might  be  accounted  exceptional,  was 
to  present  before  the  pubUc,  plays  of  foreign  make, 
which  were  worthy  of  presentation  and  of  preserva- 
tion. 

As  an  actor  he  was  the  epitome  of  the  Wallack  style, 
which  style  was  melodramatic  and  popular,  without 
being  profound.  All  critics  agree  in  their  estimates. 
Robert  Buchanan  claimed  for  Wallack  naturalness, 
"when  to  be  natural  was  to  be  grand" ;  he  likewise 
claimed  for  him  "the  domain  of  brilliant  romance," 
in  which  he  showed  his  possession  of  a  "perfect 

223 


■^Ilf  breadth  of  style,  combined  with  ineffable  grace  of 

manner."  Wallack  understood  the  value  of  situation, 

11^3llnCa0  so  stated  J.  Ranken  Towse:  "True  passion,  whether 
of  love  or  hate,  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  express, 
nor  could  he  stir  the  depths  of  pathos,  although  he 
could  strike  a  note  of  virile  tenderness  with  unerring 
truth."  It  just  happened,  according  to  Mr.  Towse, 
that  the  actor's  mannerisms  pleased,  for  he  was  in- 
capable of  becoming  other  than  himself.  WilUam 
Winter  praised  him  for  preserving  the  tradition  of 
the  old  school ;  he  was  a  specialty  actor  of  the  old 
comedy  style,  said  another,  "the  bewitching  unnatu- 
raUties  of  the  Sheridan-Tobin-Goldsmith-Bickerstaff 
school." 

As  actors,  as  managers,  the  Wallacks  may  not  have 
been  moving  forces,  but  they  were  exceptional  ex- 
amples. In  no  family  thus  far  considered  has  the 
general  excellence  of  both  the  men  and  the  women 
been  so  nearly  on  the  same  plane.  Should  we  char- 
acterize them  by  a  phrase,  as  we  did  in  the  cases  of 
the  Booths  and  Jeffersons,  we  might  say  that  the  very 
name,  Wallack,  spelled  either  romance  or  melo- 
drama. 


224 


IX— THE   DAVENPORTS 


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IX— THE  DAVENPORTS 

N  the  days  of  lumbering  stage- 
coaches and  long  journeys  be- 
tween places  now  reached  in  a 
few  hours  by  rail,  travellers 
started  from  a  small  tavern  in 
Boston  situated  on  Ann  Street. 
This  way -station  was  owned 
by  Asher  Davenport,  a  discreet 
business  man  and  a  thrifty  hus- 
band. These  same  travellers,  on  their  trip  to  New 
Hampshire  or  Maine,  perhaps,  might  have  stopped  to 
notice  a  small  boy — the  proprietor's  son  —  to  wit, 
Edward  Loomis  Davenport,  who  was  scarce  able  to 
walk,  it  being  not  many  months  since  his  birth  on 
November  15,  1815. 

The  fact  that  at  an  early  age  young  Davenport  was 
apprenticed  to  one  George  Vinton,  a  confectioner, 
and  thereafter  was  placed  in  a  wholesale  dry-goods 
store,  does  not  lead  us  to  believe  the  inn  a  very  pros- 
perous venture,  and  the  only  advantage  resulting 
from  Asher  Davenport's  financial  connection  with  a 
certain  playhouse  in  town  was  the  indirect  influence 
it  might  have  had  in  moulding  the  taste  of  his  son. 
When  the  family  removed  for  a  time  to  New  Haven 
Davenport  went  to  school,  and  easily  won  rec- 
ognition as  a  declaimer  and  a  reader.  In  Boston  he 
attended  the  Mayhew  school,  where  he  was  the  chief 
figure  in  an  amateur  company,  playing  in  a  rigged-up 
theatre. 

"His  dramatic  taste,  he  thought,  must  have  been  in- 
herited from  some  remote  ancestor,"  said  Mr.  Goddard, 
writing  of  Davenport's  genius,  "for  his  parents  ab- 
horred theatres.  The  taste  first  developed  in  him  when 
at  the  school  of  John  E.  Lovell,  the  veteran  teacher  and 
elocutionist  of  New  Haven.  'While  a  pupil  there,'  said 
Mr.  Davenport,  'I  was  anxious  to  get  into  any  garments 
other  than  my  own  and  to  play  any  character  that 
occurred  to  me.'  Mr.  Lovell  is  still  living  [1878],  at  the 

227 


'itr\\p  age  of  ninety,  greatly  loved  and  respected  by  genera- 

^^v*'  tions  of  surviving  pupils.  It  was  Mr.  Davenport's  habit 

?Dilt)rttlini*f  fi  ^°  ^^°**  ^'"^  tickets  whenever  he  played  in  New  Haven, 

M'^Cti'mf  Uiip  gjjjj  jjjg  night  before  our  interview  the  old  gentleman 

had  occupied  a  front  seat,  and  cried  all  through  the  play 

of  'Daniel  Druce'  .  .  .  ." 

It  was  several  years  before  the  drama  laid  a  defin- 
ing finger  upon  Davenport.  Yet  as  dry-goods  clerk 
he  sought  seclusion  under  the  counter  to  read  the 
latest  printed  play.  To  him,  the  chief  event  during 
the  time  he  worked  with  his  father  at  the  Exchange 
Coffee-House  was  his  meeting  with  Forrest,  who  in 
later  years  was  to  be  drawn  toward  him  of  his  own 
accord.  For,  one  night,  he  witnessed  Davenport's 
Joseph  Surface,  and  noting  a  certain  innovation  in 
costume  made  by  the  young  actor,  became  interested 
and  inquired  further  about  him. 
Previous  to  this,  however,  Davenport  had  spent  a 
short  time  at  Lynn  as  hotel  clerk  for  his  elder 
brother.  In  spare  moments,  now  over  a  baker's 
shop,  again  over  a  stable,  the  boy's  interest  was  cen- 
tred in  the  Junius  Booth  Dramatic  Association, 
where  he  learned  rudimentary  principles,  and  where 
he  was  drawn  into  the  dramatic  profession.  There 
was  another  organization,  possessed  of  a  high- 
sounding  name,  and  no  more  popular  member  of  the 
Siddonian  Dramatic  Club  could  be  found  than  young 
E.  L.  Davenport.  So  strong  had  the  taste  become 
that  no  matter  how  much  the  father  opposed,  when 
he  expressed  his  determination  to  go  on  the  boards, 
the  son,  aided  by  another  of  his  brothers,  met  George 
H.  Barrett,  a  member  of  the  Boston  Tremont  Theatre 
Company,  and  through  him  was  able  to  secure  a 
position  at  Providence,  to  support  the  elder  Booth. 
Thus  began  the  career  of  the  first  prominent  member 
of  the  Davenport  family. 

The  initial  r61e,  asstmied  with  considerable  nervous- 
ness, was  Wellborn  in  Massinger's  "A  New  Way 
228 


to  Pay  Old  Debts,"  with  Junius  as  Sir  Giles;  the    "Cl^C 
young   actor's  earnestness,   together  with   Booth's    J^^Up*xx\ei 
encouragement,  served  him  well,  and  during  the  en-    'P^i*vKliyi> 
gagement,  his  Montano  ("Othello"),  Duke  of  Albany 
("Bang  Lear"),  and  Marcellus  ("Hamlet"),  gained 
some  small  attention,  not  to  Mr.  Davenport,  but  to  a 
Mr.  Dey  or  Dee,  imder  which  name  he  was  billed.  In 
after-years,  he  was  to  win  renown  in  Booth's  part  of 
Sir  Giles. 

While  playing  at  Newport,  Davenport,  handsome  and 
graceful  as  he  was,  further  added  to  his  success  by  his 
appearance  in  Douglas  Jerr old's  "Black-Eyed  Susan," 
and  this  led  to  his  transfer  to  the  Boston  Tremont 
Theatre  (circa  1837),  where  he  became  a  member  of 
the  stock  company.  As  yet  he  was  not  to  act  the 
leading  role  in  Jerrold's  play.  This  drama  had  been 
written  for  ElUston,  who  was  managing  the  old  Sur- 
rey Theatre  in  London,  and  it  was  presented  with  the 
sub-title  "All  in  the  Downs,"  on  June  8,  1829.  On 
that  occasion  T.  P.  Cooke  assumed  the  part  of  Will- 
iam, and  in  the  after-piece,  which  was  none  other 
than  "The  Pilot,"  he  played  Long  Tom  Coffin.  In 
1841  Davenport,  still  supporting,  appeared  at  the 
Philadelphia  Arch  Street  Theatre  as  Captain  Cross- 
tree  to  the  WilUam  of  E.  S.  Conner  and  the  Susan 
of  Mrs.  W.  R.  Blake.  It  was  not  until  after  his  en- 
gagement with  Macready  that  Davenport  himself 
appeared  as  WilUam,  and  then  only  because  Webster 
persuaded  him  to  do  so;  his  wife  was  in  the  cast. 
From  a  stage-box  Douglas  Jerrold,  with  Dickens  and 
Thackeray,  viewed  the  performance,  and  on  the  mor- 
row they  were  referred  to  by  the  papers  as  a  "box 
of  novelists." 

This  role  of  William  was  destined  to  become  one  of 
Davenport's  most  popular  personations,  for  besides 
acting,  he  could  sing  and  dance  as  well.  It  is  recorded 
how  a  sailor,  having  witnessed  the  performance  in 
after-years,  wrote  that  Davenport  quite  knocked  the 

229 


'^h^  salt-water  out  of  his  top-lights.  Fanny  Davenport's 

earliest  recollection  of  the  play  was  weeping  incon- 

?r^tlDCnpOttj2(  solably  over  William  when  her  father  assumed  the 
part  at  Burton's  Theatre.  "I  recall  this  first  theatrical 
experience,"  she  wrote,  "the  anticipation,  prepara- 
tion, and  almost  hysterical  feeling  with  which  I  took 
my  seat  in  the  private  box,  with  my  favorite  full-dress, 
and  a  cherry  bow  at  my  throat  and  on  my  head — bits 
of  finery  indispensable  whenever  I  went  out." 
The  utiUty  experience  gained  at  the  Tremont  Thea- 
tre, which  was  being  managed  by  Thomas  Barry, 
lasted  for  two  seasons.  Davenport  played  the  First 
Officer  in  Mrs.  Gore's  comedy  "King  O'Neal,"  which 
had  been  written  for  Tyrone  Power,  and  he  supported 
Forrest,  who,  appearing  as  Claude  Melnotte  one  night, 
cast  the  young  man  as  Deschapelles.  The  critics, 
their  attention  drawn  to  Davenport's  Charles  Court- 
ley  of  this  period,  commended  his  voice,  for  the 
reason  that  he  neither  bellowed — so  they  averred — 
nor  shouted. 

His  training  was  in  the  vigorous  school  that  produced 
thorough  actors.  Ellen  Tree,  Booth,  Vandenhoff, 
Murdoch,  each  one  of  them  claimed  him  for  support. 
He  spent  several  seasons  at  the  Philadelphia  Walnut 
Street  Theatre,  and  on  August  9,  1843,  some  author- 
ities assert,  he  made  his  first  New  York  appearance, 
playing  with  Mrs.  Henry  Hunt  (Mrs.  John  Drew)  in 
"He's  Not  Amiss."  He  studied  parts  in  plays  that 
have  now  become  classic,  and  in  dramas  long  since 
forgotten — names  that  sound  impossible  to  the  mod- 
em ear.  Not  ashamed  was  he  either  of  his  tenor 
voice ;  many  a  time  he  would  sing  "between"  pieces, 
such  as  "Sally  in  Our  Alley"  and  "The  Bay  of  Bis- 
cay." He  was  also  favorably  regarded  when  he 
appeared  as  Thaddeus,  singing  in  "The  Bohemian 
Girl." 

There   are   many   conflicting   references   regarding 
Davenport's  New  York  engagement.  Whether  that 
230 


E.    L.    DAVENPORP 


debut  occurred  on  December  27,  1843,  or  April  19,    "^h^ 
1845,  is  of  little  consequence;  the  play  is  certain,    -— .    ^  a.^ 

as  is  also  the  place;  for  he  acted  Titus  in  Payne's  ?03l3^tTpOl^tj5 
"The  Fall  of  Tarquin,"  at  the  Bowery  Theatre,  with 
Hamblin  as  Brutus.  On  the  night  of  April  19,  1845, 
the  theatre  was  burned  to  the  ground,  and  the  com- 
pany was  forced  to  the  Bowery  Amphitheatre,  where 
Davenport  did  not  remain  any  length  of  time,  for  he 
was  soon  starring  at  the  Boston  Museum  as  Duke 
Dorgan  in  "Presumptive  Evidence."  But  it  was  not 
until  he  met  Mrs.  Mowatt  at  Niblo's  Garden  on  July 
14,  1845,  when,  as  Beauseant,  he  was  in  the  cast 
with  her  as  Pauline,  and  W.  H.  Crisp  as  Claude 
Melnotte,  that  his  signal  advance  occurred. 
A  short  season  at  the  New  York  Bowery  Theatre  began 
for  Davenport  on  August  4,  1845,  when  he  became 
leading  man,  playing  Sir  Adelbert  in  "The  Sleeping 
Beauty,"  Charles  in  "Charles  II,"  and  Ivanhoe  in  a 
play  of  that  name,  with  F.  S.  Chanfrau  as  Cedric  and 
Mrs.  Jones  as  Rebecca.  On  July  9,  1846,  Davenport 
took  his  benefit,  as  Wildrake  in  "The  Love  Chase," 
with  Mrs.  Hunt  as  Constance.  In  her  reminiscences 
Mrs.  John  Drew  wrote : 

Mr.  E.  L.  Davenport  was  a  very  fine  actor.  I  first  met 
him  at  the  old  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  when  he  was  a 
very  handsome  young  man.  Even  at  that  time  he  was 
very  versatile,  and  always  continued  so,  to  his  detri- 
ment, it  was  thought.  When  he  had  the  new  Chestnut, 
I  saw  him  play  Sir  Giles  Overreach  in  a  masterly  man- 
ner. As  Sir  Giles,  Mr.  Davenport  surpassed  even  the 
elder  Booth,  and  to  those  who  remember  that  great 
actor,  nothing  can  be  said  beyond  that. 

During  the  summer  of  1846  Davenport  followed  the 
example  of  so  many  contemporary  actors  and  went 
to  Albany,  where  he  rapidly  became  a  favorite.  There 
he  played  Claude  Melnotte  to  the  Pauline  of  Mrs. 
Melinda  Jones,  and  soon  after  became  the  chief  sup- 
port in  Mrs.  Mowatt's  company. 

231 


'(ZDl)C  The  association  with  that  lady  was  his  making ;  with 

3r>j5^r*tltint*trt  °^o^^  experience  than  she  possessed,  he  was  able  to 
^aKJlU|lUliP  strengthen  materially  her  methods  and  to  train  her; 
while  she,  with  her  influence,  opened  a  way  for  his 
steady  rise.  Together,  they  appeared  at  the  Park 
Theatre  on  September  26,  1846,  in  "Romeo  and  Ju- 
het,"  and  they  also  played  Benedick  and  Beatrice, 
Fazio  and  Bianca.  Soon  afterward  they  went  South, 
and  where  they  found  no  theatres — it  being  the  case 
in  many  a  Southern  town — they  would  substitute 
readings  in  any  available  hall,  Davenport  adding 
much  to  the  programme  by  his  voice.  So  they  trav- 
elled by  slow  stages,  from  Macon  to  Columbus, 
Georgia,  thence  to  Montgomery,  and  from  there  to 
Mobile,  Alabama. 

Mrs.  Mowatt's  autobiography  is  enlightening  and 
appreciative ;  her  tribute  to  Davenport  is  keenly  dis- 
criminating : 

"Edward  L.  Davenport,  of  Boston,"  she  wrote,  "was 
strongly  recommended  to  Mr.  Mowatt  by  old  and  lead- 
ing members  of  the  profession.  His  high  moral  char- 
acter, his  unassuming  and  gentleman-like  manners, 
his  wonderful  versatility  and  indisputable  talents, 
caused  him  to  be  selected  as  the  person  who  was  to 
travel  with  us  during  my  second  year  on  the  stage. 
Upon  this  selection,  every  succeeding  month  and  year 
gave  us  new  cause  for  congratulation.  The  prominent 
position  he  has  since  won  upon  the  English  stage,  and 
the  honors  he  has  received  from  fastidious  English 
audiences,  are  the  just  reward  of  intrinsic,  but  most  un- 
ostentatious merit.  The  American  public  were  doubly 
satisfied  with  the  choice  made  of  a  professional  asso- 
ciate, because  Mr.  D.  is  a  countryman." 

It  was  during  the  Southern  tour  that  the  two  met 
Henry  Clay  aboard  a  boat  plying  between  Louisville 
and  Vicksburg.  Whether  it  be  true  or  not,  the  meet- 
ing between  Davenport  and  the  statesman,  as  re- 
ported, was  exceedingly  humorous.  The  actor  sud- 
denly disappeared  below  deck,  and  dressed  himself  in 
232 


outlandish  fashion,  with  a  red  wig ;  soon  he  shambled     '^J^t 
upstairs  and  startled  Mrs.  Mowatt  and  members  of     5Ri;sVifrni1firf  C< 
the   company  by  his  assumed  Yankee  dialect.  He     >«^t*WvHJpuvip 
turned  to  Mowatt.  "Stranger,"  he  drawled,  "I  hear 
that's  Henry  Clay ;  I  guess  I'll  scrape  up  acquaint- 
ance." The  formalities  of  an  introduction  were  done 
away  with,  and  a  good  laugh  was  the  result. 
Later,  Davenport  decided  to  go  abroad  with  the  com- 
pany, and  Mowatt  sailed  ahead  to  make  prepara- 
tions. In  the  meantime,  at  the  Park  Theatre,  on  Sep- 
tember 23,  1847,  Sheridan  Knowles's  "Love"  was 
acted.  Mrs.  Mowatt  all  the  while  was  busily  occu- 
pied in  writing  her  drama  "Armand,"  the  title  role 
being  especially  modelled  for  Davenport's  "vigorous 
and  impulsive  style."  It  was  given  on  the  evening 
of  September  27th,  and  in  her  enthusiasm,  Mrs.  Mo- 
watt appears  to  have  forgotten  herself: 

"Mr.  Davenport's  personation  of  Armand,"  she  wrote, 
"gained  him  fresh  laurels.  I  was  too  nervous  and  too 
tormented  with  anxieties  for  the  success  of  the  play  to 
embody  the  character  of  Blanche  to  my  own  satisfac- 
tion." 

But  later  she  saw  reasons  to  revise  this  piece,  and  it 
was  given  with  greater  success  at  the  Theatre  Royal, 
Marylebone,  on  January  18,  1849.  This  was  the  same 
season  that  she  played  RosaUnd  to  Davenport's  Or- 
lando. 

After  a  short  stay  in  Boston,  the  company  sailed  for 
Liverpool  on  November  i,  1847,  and  opened  at  the 
Manchester  Royal  Theatre,  on  December  6th,  in  "The 
Lady  of  Lyons,"  reaching  London  on  January  5, 
1848,  when,  at  the  Princess  Theatre,  they  presented 
"The  Hunchback,"  with  Mrs.  Mowatt  as  Julia,  and 
Davenport  as  Sir  Thomas  Clifford ;  while  on  the  next 
day  "Much  Ado  About  Nothing"  was  the  bill. 
Writing  home  in  February,  1848,  Davenport  speaks 
of  the  first  reception: 

233 


^1  It  will  take  us  some  little  time  to  get  our  posts  well 

VLljC  bedded  in  the  soil  of  their  beef-eating,  porter-guzzling 

T^'*V»<**t»irtt»f-<i  hearts,  but  when  we  do,  "git  out  o'  the  way,  old  Dan 

^^CtUlIipOrip  Tucker."  .  .  .  Tell  Ayling  I  have  seen  nothing  here  of  my 

size,  age,  looks,  and  weight,  that  I  fear.  .  .  .  Gilbert  is  at 

the  same  house  we  are  playing  at,  and  he  is  held  in  high 

esteem.  There  were  three  of  us  the  other  night  in  one 

piece,  and  we  did  go  it  strong,  each  proud  of  the  other. 

When  Knowles's  drama,  "Love,"  was  presented,  a 
Miss  Fanny  Vining  was  in  the  cast;  she  was  the 
daughter  of  a  London  comedian,  Frederick  Vining. 
At  the  time  of  her  birth,  on  July  i6,  1829,  her  father 
was  managing  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  and  the  fact 
that  her  mother  was  a  daughter  of  John  Johnstone, 
already  mentioned,  at  once  links  the  Davenport  and 
Wallack  famiUes.  Miss  Vining  was  no  exception  to 
the  general  rule,  for  she  was  led  on  the  stage  when 
only  three,  and  at  the  age  of  eighteen  was  playing 
JuUet  to  the  Romeo  of  G.  V.  Brooke,  and  the  Mer- 
cutio  of  her  father.  When  she  joined  Mrs.  Mowatt's 
company  she  was  a  Mrs.  Gill,  but  was  free  in  person 
to  marry  again.  Her  character  pleased  Mrs.  Mowatt 
and  impressed  Davenport,  who  looked  beyond  her 
mere  artistic  ability  and  fell  in  love  with  her.  On 
January  8,  1849,  the  two  were  married,  Mrs.  Daven- 
port still  continuing  to  play  under  her  maiden  name. 
She  it  was  who  gave  a  fervid  impersonation  of  Romeo 
that  season  to  the  JuUet  of  Mrs.  Mowatt,  and  to 
Davenport's  Mercutio.  In  all  the  casts,  she  filled 
roles  of  considerable  scope.  After  her  husband's 
death,  Mrs.  Davenport  continued  to  act  occasion- 
ally, her  last  part  being  Lady  Macbeth  at  the  Boston 
Globe  Theatre,  on  April  7,  1890.  She  died  on  July 
20th  of  the  following  year. 

Davenport's  association  with  Mrs.  Mowatt  was  an 
agreeable  one ;  from  the  Princess  Theatre  they  went 
to  the  Olympic,  where  they  were  joined  by  G.  V. 
Brooke.  While  at  this  house,  Macready's  attention 
was  turned  to  Davenport,  and  indeed  the  young  actor 

234 


was  winning  renown  everywhere.  Contrasted  with 
Brooke,  one  critic  claimed : 

When  he  [Davenport]  plays  lago  to  Mr.  Brooke's 
Othello,  lago  is  the  ruling  spirit  of  the  piece;  but  when 
the  cast  is  reversed,  lago  sinks  to  the  level  of  a  trucu- 
lent ruffian,  and  Othello  rises  into  the  dignity  of  a 
brave,  honorable,  and  injured  man. 

The  company  was  seen  in  a  varied  repertoire  during 
the  Theatre  Royal  engagement;  there  were  "Cym- 
beline,"  "Twelfth  Night,"  and  "Romeo  and  Juliet," 
in  which  Mrs.  Davenport  repeated  her  success  in  the 
male  role.  Then  the  company  returned  to  the  New 
Ol5mipic  during  1849-50,  the  old  house  having  been 
burned,  and  they  opened  the  theatre  with  "Two  Gen- 
tlemen of  Verona."  Mrs.  Mowatt  read  an  inaugural 
address,  and  did  not  appear  in  the  cast  of  the  play, 
which  was  reinforced  by  the  name  of  Alfred  Wigan. 
"Much  Ado  About  Nothing"  and  "Othello"  were  like- 
wise presented. 

On  February  19,  1850,  George  Henry  Lewes's  "The 
Noble  Heart"  was  played,  after  which  Mrs.  Mowatt 
mounted  her  "Fashion,"  giving  Mrs.  Davenport  the 
woman's  lead,  and  Davenport  the  role  of  Adam 
Trueman.  The  author,  not  playing  herself,  realized, 
before  the  piece  was  finished,  that  because  of  certain 
political  views  expressed,  it  was  not  meeting  with 
favor,  and  her  opinion  was  further  heightened  by  the 
audible  sound  of  hisses.  But  about  Davenport's  work 
she  was  gracious.  "The  happy  blending  of  deep  pathos 
and  hearty  humor  in  his  embodiment  made  the  per- 
formance a  memorable  one."  As  an  actor,  this  period 
of  his  career  showed  him  full  of  life  and  vigor,  ele- 
gance of  person,  and  rare  modulation  and  clarity  of 
speech. 

Mrs.  Mowatt's  season  was  hastily  brought  to  a  close 
by  some  dishonest  transaction  on  the  part  of  her 
manager.  She  was  broken  in  health,  and  Macready 

235 


'^\^t  had  his  eyes  on  Davenport,  So  the  co-stars  parted 

Sn-j^irtiiinrfrt  company,  to  play  together  again  only  on  one  occa- 
^i'uUCUpuilp  sion,  when  Davenport  travelled  some  distance  to  ap- 
pear in  "Armand"  for  Mrs.  Mowatt's  benefit. 
Before  passing  to  the  next  decade  of  this  actor's  life, 
it  is  necessary  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say  of  the 
theatrical  conditions  as  seen  by  himself,  an  Ameri- 
can, during  his  early  stay  in  England.  A  letter  dated 
Brighton,  April  4,  1849,  runs  as  follows: 

My  dear  Friend  F. : 

Well,  we  are  still  here  in  John  BuUdom,  and  are 
still  better  Yankees  than  ever;  our  last  success  has 
raised  us  in  our  own  estimation  several  feet,  and  per 
cent,  to  match.  We  feel  thanks.  Yankees  are  some  "pun- 
kins,"  and  dear  old  America  in  the  dim  distance  looms 
up  like  the  seventy-four-gun  ship  of  nations  amidst  a 
whole  squadron  of  Baltimore  clippers.  We  are  a  great 
people  and  bound  to  be  greater,  and  to  any  fool  who 
dares  to  squint  at  us,  we  will  prove  we  are  nutmeg 
graters  of  the  greatest  sort.  We  are  still  at  the  Maryle- 
bone,  that  is  recommencing  Monday,  April  9th,  after 
Easter  week,  and  I  presume  we  remain  there  until  the 
season's  closing,  say  latter  part  of  June.  Open  your 
eyes,  O  ye  two-v/eek  stars  in  America,  and  see  the  names 
of  Mowatt  and  Davenport  sixteen  and  seventeen  weeks 
successively  and  successfully  before  an  admiring  public ! 
Bull-headed  and  porter-sucking,  wine-drinking  and 
horse-racing,  dog-fighting  and  half-and-half-destroying 
though  they  be,  there  are  some  here  who  (the  best  com- 
pliment I  can  pay  them)  ought  to  have  been  Yankees. 
You  would  go  right  off  the  handle  to  be  here  a  month. 
Why,  everything  is  a  system,  even  from  playing  to  buy- 
ing a  house,  or  sending  a  letter  through  the  post. 
Speaking  of  the  eminent  Mr.  Macready — who  I  believe 
is  acknowledged  here  as  the  head  of  the  drama — he  is 
announced  as  the  Eminent  Tragedian,  but  Mr.  James 
Anderson  is  now  posted  as  the  Preeminent — in  my 
opinion,  though  humble,  there  is  a  streak  of  agonistic 
imagination  that  is  smelling  of  egotistical  self-praise. 
What  say  you?  ...  I  stiU  hold  to  my  original  opinion 
that  we  have  more  natural  talent  in  America,  but  not  so 
much  application.  We  are  careless.  I  mean  all  con- 
cerned, from  managers  to  supers.  Here,  rehearsals  are 
made  of  importance,  and  when  a  piece  is  to  be  done, 

236 


the  property  men,  musicians,  and  actors,  must  each  do    '^TllC 
their  share.  It  is  a  system  here,  that  I  should  gladly  see    ^^*)'^ 
introduced  into  our  theatres,  and  if  ever  I  have  power  I 
will  strive  to  bring  around. 

We  can  play  Shakespeare  almost  without  a  rehearsal. 
Not  so  here.  The  actors  and  all  know  and  feel  their  re- 
sponsibility (I  am  speaking  of  the  greatest  theatres), 
and  for  their  own  credit's  sake  are  alive  to  all.  Stage 
appointments  are  also  here  more  attended  to,  effects  of 
scenery  more  studied,  the  artist  being  for  a  period  the 
director  for  his  own  purpose;  then  the  machinist,  and 
then,  with  good  acting,  regulated  by  a  stage-manager 
who  knows  his  business,  you  see  things  done  well;  but 
remove  any  one  of  the  screws  and  you  will  have  a  lame 
machine.  .  .  .  Yet  in  talent  I  say  we  can  lick  'em.  I've 
seen  only  one  actress  here  yet  that  I  would  engage  as 
leading  woman — I  mean  after  stars — and  her  name  is 
Fanny  Vining.  .  .  . 

C.  Cushman  can  lick  all  the  tragedy  ones  (heavy) ; 
and  our  little  Mowatt,  all  the  juvenile  and  comedy  ones. 
I  have  not  seen  Helen  Faucit  yet;  I,  of  course,  except 
Mrs.  Nisbett.  There  is  no  old  man  can  compare  with 
Henry  Placide,  and  young  Wheatleigh  and  Murdoch 
can  hang  'em  all  in  light  comedy.  So  you  see  we  go,  and 
yet  they  are  so  loth  to  allow  that  Yankees  have  talent. 

In  Macready,  Davenport  found  a  nature  totally  dif- 
ferent from  his  own.  The  English  tragedian  watched 
his  laurels  in  bulldog  fashion;  whatever  part  he 
played,  whether  Hamlet,  Othello,  Shylock,  Riche- 
lieu, Virginius,  Wolsey,  King  John,  Benedick,  Brutus, 
or  Lear  (which  latter  was  given  on  February  3,1851), 
the  others  in  the  cast  were  forced  to  dim  themselves. 
During  his  farewell  performances  at  the  Haymarket, 
lasting  from  October  28,  1850,  to  February  3,  1851, 
Davenport  filled  the  place  in  his  company  made 
vacant  by  the  resignation  of  J.  W.  Wallack. 
"I  wish  you  would  not  act  quite  so  much,"  roared 
Macready,  one  night ;  "your  extreme  earnestness  de- 
tracts from  the  legitimate  effect."  So  Davenport 
remained  Ustless,  and  by  obeying  orders,  was  re- 
warded with  Macready's  counter-criticism  that  there 
was  not  sufficient  animation  in  his  work.  But  de- 

237 


^aUnpom 


ALI)C  spite  these  adverse  conditions,  he  succeeded  in  at- 

5ni5\irntinrfc<    tracting  considerable   notice  in  the   characters  of 
A^t^UtU^UHP    Brutus,  lago,  IciUus,  and  Macduff. 

A  number  of  other  engagements  followed  before  the 
Davenports  returned  to  America.  Macready,  though 
he  admired  the  work  done  by  his  leading  man,  did 
not  record  the  fact  in  his  reminiscences.  A  curious 
omission  of  the  same  character,  even  if  not  prompted 
by  the  same  motive,  was  that  of  Jefferson,  in  his 
"Autobiography,"  when  he  failed  to  mention  Daven- 
port, though  he  hastened  to  assure  Fanny  Daven- 
port, when  his  attention  was  called  to  the  oversight, 
that  his  affection  for  her  father  had  always  been 
warm. 

Before  saiUng  for  home,  the  American  actor  came 
under  the  management  of  James  H.  Hackett,  and 
also  appeared  for  a  short  period  at  Drury  Lane,  dur- 
ing which  time  he  played  in  Charles  Reade's  drama, 
"Gold,"  a  plot  afterward  utilized  by  the  noveUst  in 
"It's  Never  Too  Late  to  Mend."  Edward  Stirhng  was 
acting  with  him.  Following  this,  he  was  at  the  Prin- 
cess and  Sadler's  Wells.  How  he  was  regarded  at 
the  time  is  best  seen  by  the  estimate  of  Bayle 
Bernard : 

If  Mr.  Forrest  and  Mr,  Hackett  have  been  recognized  as 
the  tragedian  and  comedian  of  America,  Mr.  Daven- 
port stands  between  them,  partaking  the  powers  of  both, 
if  not  to  the  extent  of  either.  He  is  the  tragi-comic 
genius,  which  holds  the  same  place  on  the  stage  that 
the  romantic  play  does  in  the  drama  —  that  mixture  of 
humor  and  passion  which  has  always  been  a  compound 
most  agreeable  to  English  feelings.  .  .  .  We  see  his 
greatest  distinction  —  an  extraordinary  versatility  in 
which  he  has  no  rival,  with  the  sole  exception  of  James 
WaUack,  and  for  which  his  physical  endowments  are 
quite  commensurate  with  his  mental. 

In  August,  1854,  after  an  absence  of  seven  years,  the 
Davenports  sailed  for  America,  opening  in  New  York 
on  September   nth  at  the  Broadway  Theatre,  in 
238 


"Othello,"  followed  by  "The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  Cl^C 
"Black-Eyed  Susan,"  and  J.  H.  Wilkins's  "St.  3^;^Vi^ntinrf-« 
Marc,"  with  F.  Conway  and  Madame  Ponisi  in  the  >^»*'vitvuvip 
cast.  The  actor's  reception  was  hearty  and  sincere. 
Recognized  abroad,  his  own  countrymen  praised  his 
versatiUty,  which  during  the  next  ten  years  contin- 
ued without  abatement.  Everywhere  Davenport  was 
warmly  greeted,  and  when  he  reached  Boston  on 
January  i,  1855,  to  play  Hamlet,  a  banner  was  flung 
across  the  street  with  the  words  "Welcome  home, 
E.  L.  Davenport,"  blazoned  upon  it. 
Mrs.  Davenport's  first  American  trial  was  given  at  the 
Boston  Museum,  on  March  2,  1855,  where  in  "Love's 
Sacrifice"  she  received  warm  commendation  for 
her  impulsive  style,  her  pleasing  appearance,  and 
her  graceful  movements.  She  now  seconded  her 
husband  in  all  his  roles,  acting  RosaUnd,  Ophelia, 
Beatrice,  and  Donna  Alda  in  Boker's  "Calaynos."  It 
was  Salvini  who,  witnessing  Davenport's  Hamlet, 
exclaimed,  "Anima,  anima!"  Yet  one  and  all  agreed 
that  he  lacked  power,  which  prevented  his  Richard 
and  his  Othello  from  becoming  great  interpreta- 
tions. 

He  travelled  much  during  these  seasons,  now  pre- 
senting George  H.  Miles's  tragedy  "De  Soto,  the  Hero 
of  the  Mississippi" ;  and  then  playing  Brutus  to  the 
Cassius  of  J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr.  He  was  fortunate  in 
being  thrown  with  a  wonderful  selection  of  theatrical 
people  who  were  quite  as  eminent  as  himself;  but 
unUke  many  of  them,  Davenport  was  ready  for  trag- 
edy or  comedy,  oratory  or  singing,  the  kingly  meas- 
ure or  the  sailor's  hornpipe. 

An  unfortunate  misunderstanding  occurred  during 
this  year  of  1855.  Judge  Conrad  had  written  "Jack 
Cade" ;  the  rights  were  claimed  both  by  Forrest  and 
Davenport,  the  former  having  played  it,  the  latter 
being  on  the  eve  of  doing  so.  Forrest  wrote  forbidding 
him  to  appear,  eliciting  thereby  a  letter  from  Daven- 

239 


"^hC  port  saying  that  he  withdrew,  not  because  the  right 

T^fl\  niiinrtrt  ^^^  against  him,  but  because  of  professional  cour- 
J^aUtUpwViP  tesy.  This  incident  led  to  an  estrangement  which 
lasted  a  lifetime.  When  the  two  played  together  in 
"Damon  and  P)^hias"  for  the  elder  Wallack's  bene- 
fit, they  were  not  on  speaking  terms,  even  though 
each  continued  to  admire  the  other's  art.  Forrest 
once  blurted  out,  with  that  ferocious  kindness  of  his : 
"They  may  say  what  they  please,  although  Daven- 
port and  I  haven't  spoken  for  years,  he  is  the  best 
actor  on  the  American  stage." 
On  the  other  hand  v/e  find  Davenport  proclaiming 
Forrest  "the  most  original  and  greatest  actor  Amer- 
ica has  produced."  Even  as  early  as  October  lo, 
1847,  he  was  writing  to  Forrest  in  these  terms : 

I  have  not  words  to  express  the  gratification  and  pleas- 
ure I  felt  in  witnessing  your  masterly  performance.  It 
was  probably  the  last  time  I  shall  have  an  opportunity 
to  see  you  for  years ;  but  I  assure  you,  however  long  it 
may  be,  the  remembrance  will  always  live  in  my  mind 
as  vividly  as  now. 

On  September  26,  1855,  Boker's  "Francesca  da  Ri- 
mini" was  presented  for  the  first  time,  with  Daven- 
port as  Lanciotto,  and  Madame  Ponisi  as  Francesca, 
while  Charles  Fisher  assumed  the  one  great  original 
part  in  the  piece,  the  jester  Beppo,  fairly  played  in 
later  years  by  Louis  James,  and  most  powerfully 
represented  by  William  Norris,  who,  in  Mr.  Skinner's 
revival  of  the  tragedy  (1902),  made  it,  as  it  should 
be,  the  moving  force  in  the  drama. 
From  1856  to  i860  Davenport  passed  back  and  forth 
between  New  York  and  Boston;  he  supported  Char- 
lotte Cushman,  when  in  1858  she  gave  that  series  of 
plays  which  she  announced  would  be  her  last.  In 
"Henry  VIII"  he  played  Cardinal  Wolsey,  with  Mary 
Devlin  as  Anne  Boleyn;  the  repertoire  consisted 
further  of  "Macbeth,"  "Romeo  and  Juliet,"  "Guy 
240 


Mannering,"  "The  Stranger,"  "The  Honeymoon,"      %\^t 
"The  Actress  of  Padua,"  and  "She  Stoops  to  Con-     -_^   <  ^.^^^^^^ 
quer."  J^attUpOrtlS 

Davenport  went  to  New  York  with  Miss  Cushman, 
where  she  played  Romeo  to  Miss  DevUn's  JuUet, 
and  his  Mercutio.  Then  occurred  one  of  those  per- 
formances— "The  School  for  Scandal"  —  with  a  phe- 
nomenal cast :  Lady  Teazle,  Miss  Cushman ;  Charles 
Surface,  Davenport ;  Sir  Peter,  H.  Placide ;  Sir  Oliver 
Surface,  John  Gilbert;  Crabtree,  W.  R.  Blake;  and 
Maria,  Mary  DevUn. 

Davenport  now  remained  in  Boston  for  several  years, 
acting  during  the  summer  of  1858  at  the  Boston 
Theatre,  with  Edwin  Adams,  George  Holland,  and 
Mary  Devlin.  He  played  in  "The  Corsican  Brothers," 
"The  Cataract  of  the  Ganges,"  in  which  he  was 
nightly  soaked  by  a  realistic  waterfall,  and  on  De- 
cember 29,  1859,  he  and  his  wife  took  part  in 
Brougham's  revival  of  "King  John,"  which  proved  a 
failure. 

As  a  manager,  Davenport's  regime  influenced  the 
American  (formerly  Burton's) ;  the  Howard  Athe- 
naeum (Boston);  the  old  Washington  Theatre,  and 
the  Philadelphia  Chestnut  Street  Theatre.  He  was 
energetic,  Uberal  in  his  taste,  and  sympathetic — in  a 
way  not  known  to  Wallack — to  the  subordinates  of  his 
company,  but,  unfortunately,  for  all  concerned,  not 
overserious  in  his  discipline  at  the  theatre.  Here  is 
an  example  of  the  stage  notes  which,  by  their  very 
jocularity,  gained  their  desired  ends.  "Boys,"  read 
one,  "don't  smoke,  and  if  you  love  your  manager, 
turn  down  the  gas." 

When,  on  August  29,  1859,  Davenport  obtained 
control  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum,  he  assembled  to- 
gether a  company  of  rare  abihty,  including  Mrs. 
Farren,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  J.  Florence,  Matilda 
Heron,  Julia  Dean  Hayne,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  W.  Wal- 
lack, Jr.,  John  Brougham,  and  Edwin  Booth. 

241 


^i-^C  The  management  held  together  for  three  seasons; 

?nAtorilllDtt2J  during  the  first,  Davenport  alternated  with  Booth  as 
?i^t»wi»i^w*v^  Othello  and  lago,  while  with  Chanfrau  he  changed 
from  Dundreary  to  Asa  Trenchard  in  "Our  American 
Cousin."  During  the  second  season  (beginning  Au- 
gust 13,  i860),  and  the  third  season  (beginning  Sep- 
tember 12,  1 861),  despite  financial  embarrassments, 
John  McCullough,  Lawrence  Barrett,  and  W.  J. 
LeMoyne  added  to  the  strength  of  the  casts. 
Fanny  Davenport  leaves  an  impression  of  this  time. 
She  pictured  Sundays  at  her  father's  house,  when 
Booth  dined  with  them.  The  side  table  was  always 
reserved  for  the  children  who  had  need  of  punish- 
ment, and  on  one  such  occasion,  when  Fanny  herself 
was  so  chastised,  Booth  came  in  and  saw  her.  Shame 
and  mortification  entered  her  Uttle  heart,  and  the 
great  actor  understood  it.  He  took  his  chair  from 
the  place  reserved  for  him  at  the  big  table,  and 
brought  it  close  to  that  of  the  little  girl's.  And  thus 
he  ate  his  meal,  and  thus  entered  the  tiny  girl's 
kingdom  of  the  few — a  kingdom  which  children  al- 
ways reserve  for  those  whom  they  love  "specially." 
Davenport's  managerial  venture  came  to  an  end  in 
November,  1861,  and  there  immediately  followed  his 
extraordinary  combination  with  J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr. 
These  two  played  together  in  New  York,  Philadelphia, 
and  Boston,  and  on  January  7, 1862,  gave  a  powerful 
cast  of  "The  School  for  Scandal"  at  the  Winter  Gar- 
den, travelling  also  through  the  West,  in  Shake- 
spearean repertoire,  besides  plays  of  a  more  popular 
nature,  such  as  "The  Iron  Mask,"  "Still  Waters  Run 
Deep,"  and  "The  Rivals." 

The  tours  were  great  successes,  but  finally  Wallack 
withdrew,  and  during  the  first  part  of  the  season  of 
1862-63  Davenport  remained  at  the  Wahiut  Street 
Theatre,  then  went  on  a  reading  trip  with  his  wife, 
through  New  England.  In  1863  Wallack  and  Daven- 
port were  again  together,  engaged  in  1864  by  H.  C. 
242 


Jarrett  for  stock.  On  August  23,  1864,  they  were  '^1^0 
playing  "The  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  and  in  the  winter  of  3r^<yU0frrtnfi'ei 
that  season  they  were  cast  in  "Enoch  Arden,"  Rose  TJ^^v^llyOVlp 
E5rtinge  playing  Annie  Lee.  When,  in  the  spring  of 
the  next  year  "Oliver  Twist"  was  mounted,  Daven- 
port was  acting  Bill  Sikes,  so  one  critic  said,  "in  a 
way  to  make  Dickens  shiver,  and  then  would  play 
Fagin  better  than  J.  W.  Wallack,  which  is  saying  a 
great  deal."  Many  times  the  two  actors  disbanded 
and  reorganized,  but  finally,  in  the  spring  of  1868, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Davenport  went  to  Cahfomia,  by  way  of 
the  Isthmus  of  Panama,  thus  definitely  severing  their 
connection  with  Wallack.  Once  West,  the  actor's 
favor  was  slim,  the  general  criticism  being  that  he 
lacked  magnetism.  But  when  the  time  arrived  for  him 
to  leave,  the  people  would  not  allow  it  without  first 
giving  him  a  large  testimonial. 
Returning  East,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Davenport  gave  "Even- 
ings with  the  Poets"  along  the  Une,  and  in  the  fall 
of  1868  were  back  in  Philadelphia  at  the  Walnut. 
Here  Davenport  ventured  to  assume  five  parts  in  a 
sensational  piece,  "F,  or  Branded."  He  was  ever  ap- 
peaUng  to  the  popular,  the  patriotic  side  of  the  thea- 
tre pubUc.  Witness  his  "Christopher  Columbus"  in 
1866;  his  "Scalp  Hunters"  presented  in  1868.  In  the 
year  1868,  he  acted  Ukewise  in  "The  Pilot"  and  "Rob 
Roy."  To  these  may  be  added  an  extravaganza, 
adapted  by  Davenport  himself,  which,  carrying  the 
title  "The  Centennial,  or  What  We  Expect  in  1876," 
was  produced  in  May,  1873. 

During  1869  he  played  Prospero  in  "The  Tempest," 
recalling  an  earlier  performance  of  the  same  role  in 
1855.  But  in  the  meantime  Davenport  managed  the 
Philadelphia  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  beginning 
December  12,  1870,  when  Mrs.  Scott-Siddons  and 
Fanny  Davenport  figured  prominently  during  the 
year.  Here  two  of  his  other  daughters,  Lily  Vining 
and  May,  passed  under  the  management  of  their 

243 


"^hf  father.    After    numerous    minor    engagements,    he 

found  himself  on  August  i6,   1869,  a  member  of 

£>tll)CnpOtt)3  Daly's  Twenty-fourth  Street  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre. 
Regarding  his  association  here,  two  assertions  may 
be  made :  he  seems,  according  to  E,  A.  Dithmar,  to 
have  been  "too  large  a  figure  for  Mr.  Daly's  pretty 
little  stage,"  and  further,  his  prestige  and  power 
were  gradually  slipping  from  him.  Young  players  of 
great  merit  surrounded  him,  Agnes  Ethel  and  Fanny 
Davenport  among  them.  With  the  former  he  had, 
on  January  21,  187 1,  played  "Hamlet"  for  Hol- 
land's benefit.  Now  he  was  given  slim  roles,  secondary 
parts  such  as  Sir  Harcourt  Courtley,  though  this  was 
followed  by  his  Don  Caesar  de  Bazan  to  the  Lazarillo 
of  his  daughter.  On  June  5,  187 1,  he  played  in  the 
cast  of  "London  Assurance,"  at  Daly's,  when  Fanny 
was  the  Lady  Gay  Spanker,  and  on  May  24,  1876,  he 
was  the  Jacques  to  Fanny's  Rosalind.  "I  know  she's 
a  fine  artist,"  he  said  about  this  time.  The  next  year, 
when  she  played  Helen  to  the  Julia  of  Adelaide  Neil- 
son  in  "The  Hunchback,"  Davenport  was  the  Master 
Walter,  Charles  Coghlan  the  Sir  Thomas  Clifford, 
and  Eben  Plympton  the  Modus. 
In  the  summer  of  1874,  from  his  home  at  Cantou, 
Pennsylvania,  Davenport  wrote  his  friend  Morrell, 
the  New  York  publisher : 

August  10 :  Daly  offered  me  two  weeks  at  two  different 
parts  of  the  season,  to  get  up  Sir  Giles  and  Shylock  for 
me,  but  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  policy  for  me  to  let 
my  name  down  again  in  New  York,  and  I  had  better 
reign  in  H 1  than  serve  in  H n. 

In  the  same  epistle  he  objected  to  Daly's  crowding 
the  stage  with  scenery,  leaving  no  free  range  for  act- 
ing. He  further  added : 

You  ask  why  I  was  not  the  man  for  Miss  Cushman  in- 
stead of  G.  V.  Why,  I  am  an  American,  and  consequent- 
ly cannot  act,  and  my  terms  are  not  high  enough.  I  am 
going  to  try  and  speak  Hamlet  in  Choctaw. 

244 


However,    during   December,    1874,   and   January,     vDyC 

1875,  Davenport  was  seen  in  "A  New  Way  to  Pay     jrs^i^ty^rYiftrtci 

Old  Debts,"  "The  Honeymoon,"  and  "The  Merchant     7ii>(^vi:npuiip 

of  Venice,"  supported  by  the  Daly  Company. 

Goddard  leaves  a  description  of  the  actor  at  this 

period : 

He  was  .  .  .  just  turned  sixty  —  tall,  not  over-stout,  but 
with  a  well-knit  figure,  mild  blue  eyes,  florid  face,  prom- 
inent nose,  and  tMn  light  hair  that  revealed  coming 
baldness.  His  voice,  like  his  manner,  was  indescribably 
pleasant  and  winning,  despite  a  huskiness  that  but  too 
plainly  indicated  the  decadence  of  that  melodious  sweet- 
ness of  tone  which  had  been  a  marked  characteristic 
of  his  utterance. 

There  arrives  a  period  in  every  actor's  career  when 
he  feels  himself  weakening  in  public  favor;  Daven- 
port had  now  reached  the  point  where  his  past  ver- 
satility impressed  upon  him  the  fact  that  it  was  not 
built  for  the  future.  His  last  years  were  spent  in 
small  engagements ;  he  was  subjected  to  these  during 
seven  years.  He  toured  the  South  and  New  England 
(1874) ;  he  took  care  to  rest  at  times,  going  to  Rox- 
bury,  Massachusetts.  Often  playing  at  the  Chestnut, 
Philadelphia  (during  1870,  1871,  and  1873),  he 
finally  withdrew  from  that  theatre  with  a  series  of 
farewell  performances. 

In  the  summer  of  1875  he  was  playing  "Jack  Cade" 
in  Boston,  then  "Hamlet"  in  New  York.  Toward 
the  close  of  his  life,  Davenport  attained  distinction 
as  Brutus  in  "JuUus  Caesar,"  with  Barrett  as  Cassius. 
This  occurred  at  Booth's  Theatre  on  December  25, 
1875,  and  continued  for  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
two  nights  in  New  York  and  on  tour.  "In  the  quarrel 
scene,"  said  a  theatre-goer,  "Davenport  looked  like 
some  grand  St.  Bernard  dog  listening  to  the  snarling 
of  Cassius — Barrett." 

Though  he  had  flouted  the  idea  more  than  once — in 
the  spirit  of  pain  rather  than  of  bravado  —  of  ever 

245 


'TT'Uf*  supporting  Barrett,  this  he  was  forced  to  do  on  De- 

^^  cember  4,  1876,  in  a  production  of  "King  Lear,"  cast 

^cll)ClTpOrt0  as  Edgar.  Then,  broken  in  health,  gouty,  and  sadly 
conscious  of  approaching  dissolution,  Davenport 
summoned  his  strength  for  the  last  effort,  and  on 
Januarj'  8,  1877,  he  played  at  the  Walnut  Street 
Theatre  in  Gilbert's  "Daniel  Druce."  Davenport  de- 
clared it  to  be  one  of  the  "sweetest,  cleanest,  purest 
of  plays,  without  a  wicked  word  in  it."  Many  a  time 
after  this,  while  on  tour,  he  had  to  give  up  his  per- 
formances because  of  pain  and  exhaustion,  and 
though  he  rested  a  while  at  Nahant,  he  hastened 
home  to  Canton,  where  his  daughter  Fanny  had 
purchased  an  estate  next  to  his  property,  which  she 
retained  until  she  moved  to  Massachusetts.  Daven- 
port's health  now  grew  precarious,  and  on  Septem- 
ber I,  1877,  he  died. 

Among  his  pall-bearers  were  William  CuUen  Bryant, 
Parke  Godwin,  and  Judge  Daly.  Where  he  Ues  buried 
in  Boston  is  a  stone  with  an  inscription  beginning 
"Our  Father  who  art  in  Heaven" ;  add  to  this  the 
popular  verdict  "he  was  a  perfect  gentleman,"  and 
Edward  Loomis  Davenport  is  well  placed. 
He  was  an  interesting  figure  in  the  history  of  the 
American  stage,  for  he  was  no  extreme  type  of  man. 
He  possessed  a  versatiUty  that  is  sometimes  a  detri- 
ment to  an  actor,  for  the  word  usually  carries  with 
it  a  large  repertoire  of  general  excellence,  and  great 
actors  are  chiefly  remembered  by  a  few  great  roles. 
He  is  spoken  of  by  Ireland,  as  chaste,  refined,  and  in- 
tellectual ;  as  graceful,  gracious,  and  poUshed.  Those 
are  the  requirements  out  of  which  a  worthy  stock 
actor  is  made.  But  there  was  something  more  than 
this  in  Davenport.  WiUiam  Winter  writes : 

[Davenport]  was  massive  and  weird  in  Macbeth.  His 
Duke  Aranza  in  "The  Honeymoon"  was  peerless.  His 
D'Artagnan  and  St.  Marc  were  authentic  types  of  no- 
bility, freely  and  broadly  exhibited  under  the  varying 

246 


EDGAR    L.    DAVENPORT 


lights  of  humor  and  pathos.  His  Sir  Giles  Overreach     ^Y-*^ 
was  a  sinister  and  grisly  embodiment  of  worldly  craft      ^iJC 
and  insensate  viUany.  His  Othello  [Davenport's  favor-     TTS^Uc*****^,'^*^.^ 
ite  role]  was,  in  construction,  as  nearly  perfect  as  it  is     ^Jt^tHJ^lipUPtp 
possible  for  a  work  of  art  to  be.  Mind,  grace,  force 
variety,  and  occasional  flashes  of  fire  were  character- 
istic of  Davenport's  acting.  It  was  deficient  in  soul  [de- 
spite Salvini's  exclamation].  His  nature  was  not  spirit- 
ual, and  hence  his  otherwise  excellent  Hamlet  was  as 
metallic  as  the  rapier  that  he  carried.  .  , . 

The  fact  that  as  Sir  Giles  Overreach  he  was  so  full  of 
fire  and  rapid  movement,  prompted  an  old  theatre- 
goer to  pen  these  lines  to  Davenport : 

While   viewing  each  remembered  scene,  before  my 

gaze  appears 
Each  famed  depictor  of  Sir  Giles  for  almost  fifty 

years ; 
The  elder  Kean  and  mighty  Booth  have   held   all 

hearts  in  thrall. 
But,  without  overreaching  truth,  you  overreach  them 

all!" 

Every  one  respected  Davenport,  every  one  paid  trib- 
ute to  the  personaUty  of  the  man.  At  the  time  of  For- 
rest's death,  the  general  question  was,  "Who  will  be 
his  successor?  and  eyes  were  turned  to  the  actor 
whose  career  we  have  just  traced.  Yet  the  two  were 
dissimilar  in  one  large  characteristic:  Forrest  was 
overflowing  in  the  power  which  was  denied  Daven- 
port. Had  the  latter  not  been  so  lavish  with  his  talents, 
he  would  have  been  classed  with  the  greatest.  In  no 
department  of  the  drama  was  he  found  wanting ;  he 
was  excellent  in  comedy,  farce,  tragedy,  romance; 
he  had  humor  and  pathos ;  he  could  depict  sincerity 
and  craftiness.  He  was  great  as  Othello,  he  was 
equally  great  as  lago.  He  had  intellectual  warmth 
and  lucidity,  he  was  lacking  in  inspirational  frenzy 
and  spiritual  fervor. 

Of  nine  Davenport  children,  seven  of  them  went  on 
the  stage.  Edward  Loomis  and  Adele  died  in  infancy. 

247 


^l)C  Blanche  Maria,  born  in  London  on  July  ii,  1851,  was 

T^PIIirimnrtft  educated  in  the  Boston  public  schools,  then  at  the 
:ii.auiu^uvip  convent  of  Notre  Dame.  In  1867  she  was  at  the 
Boston  Museum,  after  which,  in  1869,  she  went 
to  Milan  to  study  singing,  remaining  there  six  years. 
She  then  appeared  as  Bianca  Lablanche  at  the 
New  York  Academy  of  Music,  on  October  i, 
1879,  under  Maurice  Strakosch.  Her  career  was 
not  a  full  one,  for  she  was  soon  in  retirement  at 
Canton. 

Lily  Vining  was  bom  in  Glasgow,  November  2,  1853, 
and  was  under  her  father's  management,  with  her 
sister  May,  as  before  stated.  When  she  married  Mr. 
Frost  Thome  she  retired,  and  in  1878,  on  January 
13th,  died  in  Philadelphia. 

May  was  bom  in  Boston  on  July  21,  1856.  Her  first 
appearance  occurred  at  six  years  of  age,  when  she 
came  on  the  stage  as  the  Duke  of  York  in  "Richard 
HL"  In  1876  she  was  playing  in  "The  Mighty 
Dollar."  She  served  with  Daly;  also  at  the  Walnut  and 
the  Chestnut ;  then  she  went  to  the  Boston  Museum, 
where,  in  1879,  she  was  cast  as  Anna  Ivanowna  in 
"The  Danicheflfs,"  Louise  in  "The  Two  Orphans," 
Grace  Harkaway  in  "London  Assurance,"  and  Violet 
Melrose  in  "Our  Boys."  In  1881  she  was  with  her 
sister  Fanny.  In  January,  1882,  she  retired,  having 
married  William  Seymour,  the  well-known  stage- 
manager  for  Charles  Frohman,  who  then  had  charge 
of  the  Madison  Square  Theatre,  and  who  had  acted 
in  previous  years  with  Edwin  Booth,  Jefferson,  and 
McCullough.  Mrs.  Seymour  reappeared  for  a  short 
time  after  her  marriage.  Among  their  children,  one, 
Miss  Davenport  Seymour,  is  now  playing  in  minor 
support. 

Still  another  daughter  of  E.  L.  Davenport's  was 
Florence  Cecilia,  who  was  bom  June  11,  1858,  and 
had  a  very  brief  stage  career. 

Of  the  sons,  Edgar  Longfellow  (bom  at  Roxbury, 
248 


THE  PHIL. 


Her  Voice  Stilled 


T 


PHYLLIS   EANKIN  DAVENPORT 

Musical  comedy  favorite  of  a 
generation  ego,  who  died  yester- 
day at  her  Canton,  Pa.,  home. 
The  photograph  shows  her  at  the 
height  of  her  fame. 


E 


Star  of  Musical  Comedies 
of  Generation  Ago  Suc- 
cumbs, at  Canton 


Sijecial  to  The  Inquirer. 

CANTON,  Pa.,  Nov.  18.— Par 
from  the  bright  lights  of  Broadway, 
the  street  whose  toast  she  once  had 
been,  Phyllis  Rankin  Davenport 
matriarch  of  America's  "royal  fam- 
ily" of  the  theatre,  died  at  her 
Towanda  Valley  home,  Davenport 
Villa,  just  outside  Canton,  today. 
She  was  59  years  old. 

In  an  amusement  world  where 
mspiration  springs  chiefly  from 
Hollywood,  she  is  not  even  a  vague- 
ly remembered  name,  perhaps,  but 
to  a  previous  generation  of  play- 
goers, Phyllis  Rankin  Davenport 
was  the  glittering  star  of  musical 
comedy,  the  dark-haired  flashing- 
eyed  beauty,  who  with  a  pert  tilt  of 
the  chin  sang  "Teach  Me  How  to 
Kiss"  and  many  other  musical  fav- 
orites of  the  Gay  Nineties. 

Figures  famous  in  the  theatre, 
who  have  bridged  the  gap  between 
.vesterday  and  today,  will  remember 
Phyllis  Rankin.  But  they  must  pay 
her  their  final  homage  from  afar. 
The  funeral  services,  to  be  held  to- 
morrow, will  be  private,  attended 
only  by  members  of  the  family,  al- 
most a^  famous  in  their  own  right 
as  she  once  was. 

Marriage  United  Stage  Families -f 

"Harry  and  the  children"  make 
up  the  familv.  and  Harrv  i.s  Harrv 


Massachusetts,  February  i,  1862)  is  the  best  known.      ^t*f. 
He  took  the  child's  parts  when  his  father  was  present-      ^9  ^ 
ing  "  Pizarro"  and  "Damon  and  Pythias" ;  he  has  been      ©^tlCltPOttlS 
in  support  of  his  sister  and  of  Kate  Claxton,  but  his  " 

real  training  began  when  in  1887  he  joined  the  Bos- 
ton Museum  Stock  Company,  remaining  there  for 
five  years,  and  becoming  leading  man  of  the  organi- 
zation. Mr.  Davenport  can  look  back  on  a  rare  expe- 
rience ;  his  repertoire  has  been  varied  and  solid;  few 
present-day  actors  can  boast  of  better.  He  has  played 
in  Shakespeare,  in  old  English  comedies,  in  the 
Boucicault  dramas.  As  Horatio  Drake  in  Viola  Allen's 
"The  Christian,"  and  as  The  Cardinal  in  "In  the 
Palace  of  the  King"  he  showed  his  ability  and  variety. 
In  Ught  comedy  he  is  excellent,  but  his  talent  has  too 
much  breadth  in  it  to  be  expended  on  such  plays 
as  George  Ade's  "The  College  Widow"  or  Richard 
Harding  Davis's  "The  Galloper,"  however  popular 
these  productions  may  be.  Mr.  Davenport  inherits 
the  family  aptitude  and  the  family  musical  taste,  for 
in  the  latter  Une  he  has  attempted  composition. 
Harry  George  Bryant  was  bom  in  New  York  on  Jan- 
uary 19,  1866,  and  is  chiefly  known  for  his  Ught 
comedy  and  musical  roles;  he  has  figured  in  many 
pieces  that  have  helped  to  build  up  the  popularity  of 
Miss  Edna  May. 

Of  them  all,  however,  the  one  who  stands  forth  most 
prominently  is  Fanny  Lily  Gypsey  Davenport.  Bom 
on  April  10,  1850,  opposite  the  British  Museum  in 
London,  she  was  brought  to  America  in  1854,  and 
soon  was  trained  in  a  desultory  fashion  in  the  Boston 
public  schools.  But  more  real  to  her  and  more  im- 
portant, too,  than  books,  were  the  child  plays  that 
used  to  fire  her  imagination  and  quicken  her  desire. 
In  the  playroom  she  was  well  discipUned  in  her  imi- 
tative art.  From  her  early  days  she  saw  her  father's 
friends  around  her,  all  in  some  way  connected  with 
the  theatre.  She  once  wrote  to  a  friend : 

249 


'^Ilt*  ^y  ^^^  appearance  on  any  stage  was  at  the  Howard 

'^M*^  Athenaeum,  Boston,  July  4,  1858,  when  my  father  and 

T^;;5Vl(*t1t1flt*f  C<  mother  and  the  whole  company  sang  "The  Star-Span- 

^'CiLltUfiUl'ip  glgjj  Banner."  I  stood  beside  my  mother  and  held  the 

American  flag,  and  I  remember  receiving  the  praise 
of  the  one  dearest  to  me  in  all  the  world,  for  trying  to 
wave  the  flag  when  the  line  "The  star-spangled  banner 
in  triumph  shall  wave"  was  sung.  I  was  then  in  my  sev- 
enth year,  and  being  too  small  to  move  the  flag  alone, 
my  father  helped  me.  I  wore  a  white  frock,  open-work 
stockings,  low  slippers,  and  a  red,  white,  and  blue  sash. 
Mrs.  Barron,  Lawrence  Barrett,  John  McCullough  .  .  . 
and  others  who  now  hold  high  positions,  or  sleep  in  peace 
forever,  were  among  the  company.  My  first  appearance 
in  a  play  was  at  the  same  theatre,  in  one  of  W.  J.  Flor- 
ence's burlesques.  Sothern  had  just  played  an  engage- 
ment, and  I  came  on,  dressed  like  Dundreary,  and  did 
the  sneeze  and  the  hop,  with  a  line  from  "Our  American 
Cousin."  From  the  first  year  he  took  the  theatre,  my 
father  put  my  name  in  the  list  of  the  company  because 
it  pleased  me  and  made  me  think  that  I  was  on  the  stage. 
I  think  he  allowed  me  to  appear  once  after  the  first  two 
seasons;  then  I  was  sent  to  school  and  did  not  play  a 
part  until  I  was  thirteen  years  old. 

Some  records  point  to  the  fact  that  the  flag  incident 
occurred  on  the  stage  of  Burton's  Chambers  Street 
Theatre,  February  23,  1857,  and  that  in  this  youthful 
period,  besides  playing  in  "Metamora,"  she  took 
part  in  a  burlesque  written  by  Brougham  and  called 
"Pocahontas."  In  this  she  was  a  target-bearer,  E.  L. 
Davenport  was  John  Smith,  and  Mrs.  Davenport 
was  the  Indian  Maiden. 

While  her  father  was  managing  the  Howard  Athe- 
naeum, Fanny  was  cast  as  the  Peruvian  Boy  in  "Pi- 
zarro"  and  as  King  Charles  II  in  "Faint  Heart  Ne'er 
Won  Fair  Lady"  (October  29,  i860).  In  this  role  she 
appeared  at  Niblo's  Garden  on  February  14,  1862. 
Her  first  adult  part  was  Mrs.  Mildmay  in  "Still  Wa- 
ters Run  Deep,"  with  the  Wallack-Davenport  com- 
bine. After  this  she  played  soubrette  roles  in  Louis- 
ville, passing  from  there  to  the  Arch  Street  Theatre, 
under  the  management  of  Mrs.  John  Drew,  where, 
250 


appearing  in  dramas,  farces,  and  operas,  among  them     ^iu  ^^ 
"Barbe  Bleue,"  she  attracted  the  notice  of  Augustin     ^^^ 

Daly  (1869).  J^atienpottjs 

From  that  time  her  advance  was  rapid.  We  may  al- 
most divide  the  artistic  life  of  Fanny  Davenport  into 
two  parts:  a  repertoire  period  and  the  Sardou  reign. 
And  what  a  repertoire  it  was! — an  enviable  list  of 
old  comedies,  a  large  range  of  Shakespeare.  From 
Colley  Gibber,  through  Sheridan,  Robertson,  and 
Bulwer,  to  Bronson  Howard's  "Saratoga"  and  Daly's 
"Pique."  It  was  a  nervous  overflow  of  temperament 
and  energy — a  training  more  marvellous  than  wise. 
The  following  table  will  serve  to  indicate  her  wonder- 
ful scope : 


PARTIAL  REPERTOIRE  OF  MISS  DAVENPORT 

Fanny  Davenport  with  Daly 
at  his  New  York  Theatre, 
24th  Street,  near  Broadway. 

Lady  Gay  Spanker,       London  Assurance. 

Miss  Richland,  The  Good-natured  Man. 

Lady  Mary,  Maids  as  They  Are,  and  Wives 

as  They  Were. 
Violetta,  She  Would  and  She  Would 

Not. 


Letitia  Hardy,  The  Belle's  Stratagem. 

Mistress  Ford,  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 


Polly  Eccles,  Caste. 

Rosie  Farquhar,  Play. 

Alice  Hawthorne,  Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts. 

Mrs.  Madison  Noble,  Surf. 

EfEe  Remington,  Saratoga. 

Baroness  de  Miroc,  Article  47. 

Nelly  Wyckoff,  Diamonds. 

Lu  Ten  Eyck,  Divorce. 

Fanny  Ten  Eyck,  Divorce. 

251 


€1)C 
3Datcnport0 


Fanny  Davenport  with  Daly 
at  his  New  York  Theatre, 
28th  Street,  Broadway : 
The  Fifth  Avenue. 


Kitty  Compton, 
Mabel  Renfrew, 


Fortune. 
Pique. 


Rosalind, 

Imogen, 

Rosaline, 

Beatrice, 

Lady  Macbeth, 

Pauline, 

Leah, 


Lady  Teazle, 

Julia, 

Miss  Hardcastle, 

Talburnia, 

Peg  Woffington, 


As  You  Like  It. 

Cymbeline. 

Love's  Labour's  Lost. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

Macbeth. 

Lady  of  Lyons. 

Leah,  the  Forsaken. 


School  for  Scandal. 
The  Honeymoon. 
She  Stoops  to  Conquer. 
The  Critic. 
Masks  and  Faces. 

Sardou  Period. 


(1883)  Fedora,  Fedora. 

(1888)  La  Tosca,  Tosca. 

(i8qo)  Cleopatra,  Cleopatra. 

(1894)  Gismonda,  Gismonda. 

(A  Soldier  of  France ; 
changed  to 
The  Saint  and  the  Fool; 
changed  to 
Joan. 


Other  Davenport  R61es. 

Nancy  Sikes,  Oliver  Twist. 

Camille,  Camille. 

Gilberte,  Frou  Frou. 

Francine,  Two  Widows. 
Duchess  de  Septments,  The  American. 

Eugenia  Cawallader,  The  Big  Bonanza. 

Mary  Melrose,  Our  Boys. 

Olivia,  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 

252 


FANNV  DAVENPORT 


Were  one  to  read  all  the  plays  presented  by  Miss  -^fj^ 
Davenport,  it  would  be  a  dramatic  education  in  itself.  ^ 
Her  acting  was  filled  with  vitality,  emotion  of  the  ^fliJCltpOVtjS 
kind  that  could  be  artificial,  as  in  Lady  Teazle,  and 
that  could  meet  the  strain  of  a  Camille  or  the  force  of 
a  Nancy  Sikes.  Though  she  went  abroad  several 
times,  only  once  she  went  to  act,  when  in  1882  she 
played  "Pique,"  renamed  "Only  a  Woman."  Then 
began  her  Sardou  period  which  embraced  four 
dramas,  all  exacting  in  their  external  passion. 
Miss  Davenport's  presence  was  well  adapted  to  such 
rdles;  powerfully  but  well  built,  she  added  to  her 
grace  a  marked  beauty  of  feature.  Season  after  sea- 
son of  Sardou  told  upon  her  physical  response.  Miss 
Davenport's  spirit  grew  weary  of  such  violence; 
she  had  made  her  roles  great  through  exertion,  not 
through  unconscious  inspiration.  Critics  speak  of  her 
"plastic  demeanor,"  of  her  well-simulated  frenzies. 
She  won  by  her  extensive  grasp  of  situation  and 
movement,  not  by  her  quietude  and  repression.  She 
was  spirited,  hence  the  success  of  her  Lady  Gay 
Spanker  and  Lady  Teazle;  she  was  graceful  with 
charm  of  manner,  hence  her  pleasing  Rosalind. 
Miss  Davenport  was  unprepared  for  her  next  venture. 
"Gismonda"  had  in  1894  proved  successful,  but  on 
the  eve  of  going  to  Boston,  her  scenery  for  it  had  been 
destroyed  by  fire.  Tremendous  strain  and  effort  were 
put  into  the  work  of  refitting.  This  was  sufficient  to 
wear  upon  her.  She  felt  that  a  spiritual  calm  must  be 
the  dominant  note  in  her  next  play,  which  proved  to 
be  her  last.  Frances  Aymar  Mathews  placed  Joan  of 
Arc  in  a  drama  for  her,  called  "A  Soldier  of  France," 
but  the  venture  failed. 

Already  Miss  Davenport's  health  was  breaking,  and 
after  a  period  of  uncertain  strength,  trying  to  regain 
some  of  her  power  at  South  Duxt^jry,  Massachusetts, 
where  her  summer  home  was  located,  she  died  on 
September  26, 1898.  She  was  married  twice. 

253 


-^hf  Miss  Davenport  was  a  great  emotional  artist,  with  a 

T-\   v»  w-rt    restiveness  undaunted  by  obstacles,  but  blind  to  the 

^tluCUpOrtP  reserve  which  should  balance  genius.  Yet  as  the 
actress-daughter  of  an  actor-father,  no  better  repre- 
sentative—in a  way  equally  as  lasting— could  be 
found. 


254 


X— THE  HOLLANDS 


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X— THE  HOLLANDS 

HEN  George  Holland  turned  his 
steps  toward  America,  he  carried 
in  his  pocket  a  letter  from  Ju- 
nius Brutus  Booth — one  of  the 
most  characteristic  communica- 
tions bearing  upon  dramatic 
conditions  of  the  past.  Henry 
Wallack,  looking  up  recruits  in 
London  for  the  New  York  Chat- 
ham Theatre,  had  his  attention  drawn  to  Holland, 
who  was  at  the  Haymarket,  and  it  was  through  him 
that  Booth's  interest  was  secured.  Thus  two  actor- 
families  in  America  were  influential  in  establishing 
a  third. 

Holland  had  experienced  a  varied  career  when  he  at 
last  determined  to  go  to  the  States;  he  had  reached 
the  stage  in  a  roundabout  fashion,  though  there  was 
every  reason  for  his  becoming  an  actor  at  the  very 
outset.  However  much  one  should  like  to  believe 
George  Holland's  father  a  tradesman,  there  is  small 
doubt  that  he  was  instead  a  dancing-teacher  in  Lon- 
don, who  at  various  times  was  likewise  seen  upon 
the  boards.  John  Holland,  or  Henry — the  latter  is 
more  probable  since  a  grandson  bore  the  same  name 
— had  a  family  of  seven  children,  the  third  one  of 
whom  was  George,  bom  on  December  6,  1791.  The 
boy  had  just  arrived  at  his  sixth  year,  when  a  play- 
bill of  the  Royalty  Theatre  indicated  that  on  the 
evening  of  November  27,  1797,  some  spectacle  was 
given,  during  which  Mr.  Holland,  Master  Holland, 
and  Miss  Holland  performed  various  figures  in  the 
dance.  Mr.  Wallack,  the  father  of  James  and  Henry, 
was  also  a  prominent  member  of  this  cast. 
There  are  no  records  available  to  trace  the  ancestry 
of  the  Holland  family;  it  has,  however,  been  defi- 
nitely decided  that  they  are  in  no  way  related  to  the 
actor  of  Garrick's  time,  or  to  his  nephew.  Charles 

257 


l)ollanD)3 


^\)C  Holland  (1733-69),  perpetuated  in  "The  Rosciad," 

and  praised  by  the  boy-poet  Chatterton,  came  of  a 
different  line,  and,  with  his  name-sake  of  Elliston's 
day,  gave  rise  to  an  English  actor-family  of  great 
but  separate  interest. 

Henry  Holland's  son  did  not  lack  for  an  education. 
At  first  attending  school  in  the  Parish  of  Lambeth,  he 
next  went  to  a  boarding-school  in  Hertfordshire,  a 
sombre-looking  place,  which,  however,  could  boast 
of  a  beautiful  lawn.  While  there,  young  Holland  was 
quicker  to  learn  cricket  than  he  was  to  master  Greek, 
and  when  two  years  had  slipped  away  he  was  re- 
garded as  a  champion  athlete. 

He  seems  meanwhile  to  have  settled  upon  no  profes- 
sion ;  in  fact  his  next  move  was  far  from  anything 
pertaining  to  art.  He  became  a  clerk  in  the  silk 
warehouse  of  Messrs.  Hill  &  Newcombe,  Cheapside. 
During  this  period  Mr.  Smith,  one  of  the  owners  of 
Astley's  Amphitheatre,  used  to  visit  the  Hollands, 
and  through  him,  George  saw  "Les  Ombres  Chinois," 
a  mechanical  puppet-show  which  attracted  children 
and  pleased  the  grown  people  equally  as  well. 
After  six  months  the  young  man  transferred  his 
energies  to  a  firm  of  bankers,  where  he  did  collecting 
for  the  house.  He  was  thus  forced  to  be  so  constantly 
on  his  feet  that  he  grew  ill  from  overfatigue,  and  a 
three  months'  absence  lost  him  his  place.  His  new 
position  was  as  a  bill  clerk  in  a  broker's  oflice,  and 
he  found  himself  tied  to  a  desk,  where  he  was  again 
stricken  with  sickness,  because  of  too  little  exercise. 
Holland  met  with  some  difficulty  in  procuring  his 
next  place.  At  last  chance  threw  him  in  the  way  of 
a  printer's  shop  where  "Newman's  Echo  Lists" — a 
species  of  digest  of  all  advertisements  pubUshed  in  the 
daily  papers — was  issued.  Holland  was  forthwith 
employed  to  manage  the  business  end  of  the  venture, 
and  so  well  did  they  succeed  that  things  would  have 
flourished  had  not  the  proprietor  soon  conceived  the 
258 


GEORGE   HOLLAND 
From   an  clchini^  by   II.   H.   Hall 


idea  of  starting  a  weekly  newspaper,  which  would    '^hC 
reprint  what  was  the  cream  of  literature  from  other    vi^   ,,       ^^ 
journals.  iPOllaitOjS 

Building  upon  dreams,  Newman  let  the  reality  lan- 
guish, and  failure  came  of  it  all.  So  Holland  re- 
mained at  home  for  a  time,  learning  fencing  from 
his  brother,  and  acquiring  the  art  so  well  that  he  was 
looked  upon  as  an  expert.  For  two  years  he  turned  his 
hand  to  printing,  and  when  he  was  not  bending  over 
type-cases  he  was  rowing  or  boxing,  and  meeting  all 
the  professional  ring  champions  he  could.  He  was 
famed  for  his  rowing  and  thought  nothing  of  pulling 
miles  and  miles  up  and  down  the  Thames  River. 
Printing  was  not  to  his  liking ;  he  had  his  indentures 
cancelled,  and  for  two  years  went  through  Ireland  as 
a  commercial  traveller.  This  sounds  better  than  it 
actually  was ;  a  hawker's  license  had  to  be  obtained, 
and  no  doubt  Holland  peddled  his  wares,  putting  to 
good  use  his  fund  of  humor  and  genial  temper.  In 
1 8x6  he  was  living  in  Dublin  where,  on  Crow  Street, 
he  had  a  thread-lace  warehouse.  From  the  windows 
of  this  shop  Holland  could  see  the  theatre,  at  the  end 
of  the  street,  and  across  the  way  from  him  was  a 
kind  of  iim,  frequented  by  the  actors — and  by  the 
merchant  of  laces  himself. 

The  hours  spent  at  "Kearney's"  were  jolly  ones; 
perhaps  Holland  was  prevailed  upon  to  do  some 
imitations,  or  to  dance ;  he  liked  his  friends  and  they 
were  fond  of  him.  When  he  reached  London  his  taste 
for  trade  had  abated — or,  better  still,  had  been  re- 
placed ;  persuaded  by  his  actor-mates  to  cast  his  lot 
with  them,  he  signed  with  Russell,  of  the  London 
Olympic  Theatre,  who  was  EUiston's  stage-man- 
ager. For  six  weeks  he  played,  receiving  £5  a  week. 
"Come  to  my  theatre  in  Birmingham,"  suggested  the 
manager  at  the  close  of  the  engagement,  so  Holland 
set  out  on  foot,  in  the  wake  of  the  attraction  "Les 
Ombres  Chinois."  But  when  he  reached  the  theatre, 

259 


-^j^p  Eliiston  had  forgotten  all  about  his  verbal  promise. 

'  Holland  and  a  fellow-actor  in  the  same  plight  were 

i^OllnilDj^  thus  at  sea;  but  soon,  on  May  19,  1817,  Eliiston  of- 
fered them  15  shillings  a  week  to  do  anything  and 
everything  that  might  be  required  of  them.  Now  set- 
tled, Holland  found  himself  under  the  stage-manage- 
ment of  Mr.  Brunton,  one  of  whose  daughters  be- 
came the  Countess  of  Derby,  while  the  other  became 
Mrs.  Wignell,  of  the  New  York  Park  Theatre  fame. 
It  is  strange  that  Holland's  opening  performance — 
despite  his  temperament — should  be  in  the  tragedy 
"Bertram,"  in  which  he  acted  the  part  of  a  monk, 
while  in  the  after-piece,  called  "The  Broken  Sword," 
he  assumed  the  role  of  a  baron.  The  first  play  went 
off  fairly  well,  but  in  the  second  guise  some  actor 
perpetrated  a  joke  upon  him,  and  helped  "make  him 
up"  in  the  most  clownish  manner.  Foolishly,  Hol- 
land did  not  seek  a  glass  to  take  a  final  look  be- 
fore going  on.  But  his  most  serious  doubts  were  fully 
realized  when  the  audience  greeted  him  with  roars  of 
laughter.  Holland  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  and  rushed 
out  of  the  theatre  and  to  his  rooms,  where  he  re- 
mained until  Eliiston  sent  for  him;  in  the  mean- 
while, William  Winter  records,  supporting  himself 
by  giving  lessons  in  fencing  and  boxing.  Then  he  ex- 
plained the  whole  occurrence  and  was  reinstated, 
with  the  high  office  of  stage-prompter.  For  many  a 
day  he  was  called  "The  Baron." 
Vincent  De  Camp  was  a  comedian  playing  in  Bir- 
mingham during  this  time;  and  when  he  finally 
succeeded  in  procuring  a  theatre  for  himself  at  New- 
castle-on-Tyne,  he  asked  Holland  to  join  him.  So 
the  young  actor,  abandoning  the  idea  of  a  stage- 
coach journey  to  his  destination,  which  was  expen- 
sive, set  sail  from  London  on  board  a  brig,  the  elder 
Booth  being  one  of  the  passengers.  The  opening 
night  was  December  28,  1818,  when  "The  School  for 
Scandal"  was  played;  Holland  was  cast  in  the  seem- 
260 


ingly  unimportant  part  of  Moses;  his  associates  were  '^hc 
Mr.  Jefferson  as  Sir  Oliver,  Tyrone  Power  as  Joseph, 
and  Charles  Hill,  who  became  one  of  Holland's  l^OUaiTtljS 
closest  friends,  as  Trip.  Mr.  Grant  and  Miss  Barry 
were  the  Sir  Peter  and  Lady  Teazle.  In  "Forty 
Thieves,"  the  short  piece  that  followed,  Power  acted 
opposite  Mrs.  Usher,  the  sister  of  James  Wallack, 
and  during  the  play  her  daughters,  the  Misses  Pin- 
cott,  performed  fancy  dances. 

Power  and  Holland,  congenial  in  disposition,  grew 
very  companionable,  and  though  they  were  soon  to 
separate,  they  came  together  again  in  New  Orleans, 
twenty  years  later. 

Holland  next  went  to  Manchester  where  he  served  as 
prompter  at  a  small  theatre,  but  he  remained  only  a 
short  time,  returning  to  Newcastle,  where  he  stayed 
for  five  seasons,  meeting,  while  there,  with  Tom 
Hamblin,  Tom  Flynn,  William  Conway,  and  others 
who  eventually  crossed  to  America.  There  also  he 
witnessed  the  performance  of  one  Monsieur  Alex- 
andre, a  famed  ventriloquist,  who  probably  famil- 
iarized Holland  with  the  tricks  of  the  trade,  which 
the  actor  introduced  immediately  into  his  "The 
Whims  of  a  Comedian." 

An  alarm  of  fire  occurred  at  the  Newcastle  Theatre 
on  February  19,  1823,  resulting  in  the  death  of  seven 
persons.  Shortly  before,  Holland  had  accepted  the 
post  of  stage-manager  at  the  Manchester  Theatre, 
where  Mrs.  Usher's  husband,  a  famous  clown,  was  to 
star  "in  melodrama,  dancing,  and  comic  panto- 
mime." Mrs.  Usher  was  advertised  to  appear  in  "The 
Stranger,"  and  much  to  Holland's  surprise,  he  was 
announced  for  the  pantomime  as  Harlequin,  while 
Usher  was  to  ride  around  the  stage  in  a  chariot 
drawn  by  his  four  famous  cats.  With  much  unneces- 
sary alarm  Holland  rehearsed  his  part,  and,  on  the 
night,  an  unlooked-for  occurrence  brought  him  suc- 
cess. Hardly  able  to  see  in  the  mask  furnished  him, 

261 


jT-j*^  he  and  his  slim-waisted  Columbine  tripped  and  fell 

'*■  in  a  heap,  and  the  audience  roared.  The  "accident" 

i)0ll(tinD)2J  had  to  be  repeated.  William  Winter  records  another 
mishap.  Holland  was  once  pretending  to  cut  off  his 
nose  with  a  large  pair  of  shears,  and  meeting  with 
great  applause,  he  flourished  his  hand  in  such  a  way 
that  the  tip  was  severed.  Fortunately  the  wound  so 
healed  that  no  scar  remained.  But  the  trick  itself 
had  to  be  introduced  as  a  permanent  thing. 
Many  minor  engagements  followed  this  one,  and 
then  Holland  found  himself  at  the  London  Haymar- 
ket.  Here  he  met  Macready,  the  actor  of  domineering 
manner,  who  would  have  none  but  his  own  way. 
Holland  was  beginning  to  be  stamped  as  a  comedian 
of  very  broad  order;  yet  Macready,  during  rehearsals 
for  "Virginius,"  suddenly  conceived  the  notion  of 
casting  him  as  Icilius.  "He  will  be  laughed  at,"  sug- 
gested the  stage  -  manager.  "I'll  risk  it,"  replied 
Macready. 

The  evening  arrived  and  with  it  the  expected  denoue- 
ment, with  something  more  besides,  for  when  the 
laugh  broke  out,  Macready  with  stem  scowl  ad- 
vanced to  the  front  of  the  stage.  The  laugh  died 
away  into  silence.  "With  your  permission,"  said 
Macready,  in  a  tone  that  cut  and  stung,  "we  will 
proceed  with  the  play." 

Morrell  suggests  that  in  these  days  of  dramatic  his- 
tory, English  actors  might  demand  larger  salaries  at 
home,  if  they  ventured  to  go  to  America  and  fill  at 
least  one  engagement.  This  may  have  been  Holland's 
idea  when  he  began  thinking  of  the  trip,  but  after 
Wallack  had  spoken  to  Booth,  after  Booth  perhaps 
had  recalled  the  genial  young  man  who  had  travelled 
with  him  to  Newcastle,  and  furthermore  after  Hol- 
land had  received  a  definite  offer,  his  decision 
changed  to  a  longer  time  than  a  mere  visit.  Booth's 
letter  is  quoted  in  full : 

262 


New  York,  Xmas  Eve,  1826  '0^1l(^ 

but  direct  y'r  letter  to  the  Theatre  V-^t^v 

Baltimore  U  States. 
My  Dear  Sir:  Messrs.  Wallack  and  FREEMAN,  a  few 
days  since,  shewed  me  your  letter,  with  the  inclosure 
sent  last  winter  to  you  at  Sheffield. 
It  is  requisite  that  I  inform  you  Theatricals  are  not  in 
so  flovuishing  a  condition  in  this  Country  as  they  were 
some  two  years  ago.  There  are  four  Theatres  in  this 
City  each  endeavoring  to  ruin  the  others,  by  foul  means 
as  well  as  fair.  The  reduction  of  the  prices  of  admission 
has  proved  (as  I  always  anticipated  from  the  first  sug- 
gestion of  such  a  foolish  plan)  nearly  ruinous  to  the 
Managers.  The  Publick  here  often  witness  a  Perform- 
ance in  every  respect  equal  to  what  is  presented  at  the 
Theatres  Royal  D.  L.  and  C.  G.  for  these  prices.  Half  a 
dollar  to  the  boxes  and  a  quarter  do.  to  the  Pit  and 
Gallery! 

The  Chatham  Theatre  of  which  I  am  the  Stage-Mana- 
ger, at  these  low  prices  one  thousand  dollars. — Acting 
is  sold  too  cheap  to  the  Publick  and  the  result  will  be  a 
general  theatrical  bankruptcy. 

Tragedians  are  in  abimdance — MACREADY^Conway 
— HAMBLIN — FORREST  (now  No.  i)  COOPER—WalLACK 
— Maywood  and  self  with  divers  others  now  invest 
New  York.  But  it  won't  do;  a  diversion  to  the  South 
must  be  made — or  to  Jail  three-fourths  of  the  Great 
men  and  managers  must  go. 

Now,  sir,  I  will  deal  fairly  with  you.  If  you  will  pledge 
yourself  to  me  for  three  years,  and  sacredly  promise 
that  no  inducement  which  may  be  held  out  by  the  un- 
principled and  daring  speculators  which  abound  in  this 
country  shall  cause  you  to  leave  me,  I  will,  for  ten 
months  in  each  year,  give  you  thirty  dollars  per  week, 
and  an  annual  benefit  which  you  shall  divide  with  me. 
Beyond  this  sum  I  would  not  venture,  the  privilege  of 
your  name  for  Benefits  Extra  to  be  allowed  me — and  I 
should  expect  the  terms  on  which  you  would  be  engaged 
to  remain  secret  from  all  but  ourselves. 
Mind  this — Wether  you  play  in  my  Theatres  or  else- 
where in  the  U  States,  I  should  look  for  implicit  and 
faithful  performances  of  your  duty  toward  me  or  my 
colleagues!  In  case  I  should  require  you  to  travel, 
when  in  the  United  States,  which  is  most  probable,  I 
will  defray  all  the  charges  of  conveyance  for  you  and 
your  luggage — your  living  would  not  be  included  either 
by  land  or  water — Boarding  (three  meals  a  day),  and 

263 


l^ollanD^ 


your  Bed  room,  may  be  had  in  a  very  respectable  house 
irnC  here,    &  in  Baltimore  at  from  four  to  six  dollars  per 

week — "Lodgings  to  let"  are  very  scarce  and  expen- 
i}OllcinD)S(  sive,  and  the  customs  of  this  country,  in  this  respect, 

are  essentially  different  to  those  of  the  EngUsh. 
The  M.S.  and  music  of  "Paul  Pry,"  with  FAUSTUS'S 
music  Do.  and  Book  of  the  "Pilot."  The  M.S.  and  Do. 
of  a  piece  played  some  few  years  back  at  Sadlers'  Wells, 
called  "The  Gheber,  or  the  Fire  Worshippers."  Two  or 
three  of  LiSTON'S  new  pieces  I  should  advise  you  to 
bring.  And  particularly  the  "Gheber"  for  me.  "The 
Mogul  Tale"  here  is  out  of  print. 
In  the  Exeter  Theatre  last  January  were  two  actresses 

that  I  should  like  to  engage.  Miss  P (not  the  Miss 

P.  formerly  of  Drury  Lane )  and  Miss  H.  If  you  will  in- 
quire after  them— I  will  thank  you.  To  each  of  these 
ladies  a  salary  of  fifteen  dollars  a  week  I  can  venture 
offering — 15  dollars  are  upward  of  three  Guineas  and 
Benefit  annually. 

Now  sir  I  have  offered  to  you  and  those  ladies  as  much 
as  I  can  in  honesty  afford  to  give,  their  travelling  ex- 
penses to  and  from  Theatres  in  the  United  States  (not 
including  board)  I  should  defray,  as  I  told  you  re- 
specting your  own — and  the  use  of  their  names  for 
benefits  on  Stock  nights — Your  Une  of  business  would 
be  exclusively  yours.  For  the  ladies  I  would  not  make 
this  guaranty — The  greatest  actress  in  the  World  I  may 

say  is  now  in  this  city  (Mrs.  D )  and  several  very 

talented  women — besides  I  would  endeavor  to  make 

such  arrangements  for  Miss  P and  Miss  H as 

would  not  be  very  repugnant  to  their  ambition. 

The  reason  Mrs.  D does  not  go  to  London  is  my 

strenuous  advice  to  her  against  it. — The  passages  from 
Europe  I  should  expect  repaid  to  me  out  of  the  salaries, 
by  weekly  deductions  of  three  dollars  each.  The  captain 
of  the  ship  would  call  upon  the  parties  or  you  might 
vprite  to  them  on  his  visit  to  you ;  everything  on  board 
will  be  furnished  that  is  requisite  for  comfort,  and  the 
expenses  I  will  settle  for  her  previous  to  starting.  Mind 
the  ship  you  would  come  over  in,  is  one  expressly  bar- 
gained for,  and  will  bring  you  where  I  shall  (if  living) 
be  ready  to  welcome  you — 

Let  me  recommend  you  to  Economy — see  what  a  num- 
ber of  our  brethren  are  reduced  to  Indigence  by  their 

obstinate  Vanity— I  have  here  Mr.  D who  was  once 

in  London  the  rival  of  ELLISTON,  and  is  now  a  better 
actor — approaching  the  age  of  sixty,  and  not  a  dollar 

264 


put  by  for  a  rainy  day — too  proud  to  accept  a  salary  of 
twenty  dollars  per  week  in  a  regular  engagement — he 
stars  and  starves.  Many  have  been  deceived  and  mis- 
led in  their  calculations  in  coming  to  this  country — 
some  have  cut  their  throats,  &c.,  from  disappointment 
— Mrs.  Romer  (once  of  the  Surrey),  MRS.  ALSOP,  Mr. 
ERTWISTLE— KiRBY  the  Clown — are  all  on  the  felo  de 
se  list — with  others  I  now  forget — 
The  temptations  to  Drunkenness  here  are  too  common 
and  too  powerful  for  many  weak  beings  who  construe 
the  approval  of  a  boisterous  circle  of  intoxicated  fools 
as  the  climax  of  everything  desirable  in  their  profes- 
sion— [Poor  Booth,  preaching  where  he  found  it  hard 
to  practice !]  What  do  they  find  it,  when  a  weakened 
shattered  fraim,  with  loss  of  memory  and  often  reason, 
are  the  Result — [Experience  was  indeed  to  teach  him 
that  such  was  the  case!]  The  hangers  on — drop 
astern — and  the  poor  wreck  drives  down  the  Gulf  de- 
spised or  pitied,  and  totally  deserted. 
If  you  choose  accepting  my  offer — get  for  me  those 
ladies.  SIMS  can  perhaps  tell  you  where  they  are,  and 
I  will  on  the  first  occasion  send  for  you  and  them,  with 
the  articles  of  agreement  to  be  signed  in  London  and 
legally  ratified  on  your  arrival  in  America — recollect 
this — the  Passages  in  Summer,  owing  to  the  calms  are 
longer  in  performing,  but  they  are  much  safer,  and 
the  Newfoundland  Bank  is  an  ugly  place  to  cross  in 
Winter,  though  it  is  often  done,  yet  still  it  is  a  great 
risk. 

The  Crisis  which  left  London  Docks,  last  January  with 
all  her  passengers  after  being  out  for  68  days,  and 
being  spoken  to  on  the  banks  by  another  vessel — is  not 
yet  come  or  will  she  ever — The  icebergs  no  doubt 
struck  her,  as  they  have  many — and  the  last  farewell 
was  echoed  by  the  waves. 

Write  me  soon  and  glean  the  information  I  ask  for — 
The  letter  bag  for  United  States  vessels — from  London 
is  kept  at  the  North  American  Coffee  House  near  the 
Bank  of  England.  Yours  truly. 

Booth. 
George  Holland. 

This  letter  was  typical  of  Booth — it  was  proud,  im- 
perious, final ;  it  was  to  the  point  in  an  erratic  way. 
Its  effect  upon  Holland  can  only  be  imagined;  he 
must  have  pondered  it  well,  and  finally  concluded 

265 


'SLllC  "^*  *^  accept  the  terms.  Instead  he  signed  with  the 

^  New  York  Bowery  Theatre,  and  during  August,  1827, 

l^Oll9nt)0    set  sail  for  America  on  the  "Columbia." 

"A  Day  After  the  Fair"  was  the  opening  bill  on 
September  12th,  and  Holland  was  immediately  re- 
ceived with  favor;  he  was  cast  for  six  parts  in  the 
play :  a  drunken  cobbler,  a  ballad-singer,  a  drummer, 
a  French  songstress,  a  smart  servant,  and  a  madman. 
He  was  assisted  by  Mrs.  G.  Barrett. 
As  a  comedian,  Holland  showed  no  subtlety  of  feel- 
ing, no  depth  of  thought;  he  depended  for  effect 
chiefly  upon  the  external  condition,  the  accidental 
opportunity.  All  critics  agree  that  he  spent  more  time 
in  studying  how  best  to  overturn  a  chair,  than  he  did 
in  interpreting  his  character.  If  he  burned  his  nose 
with  a  candle  flame,  people  gave  way  to  uncontrol- 
lable mirth.  His  barnyard  imitations,  his  ventrilo- 
quism— these  accessories  made  him  a  "fun-pro- 
ducer," if  such  a  term  can  be  used.  "He  has  .  .  . 
no  genius,"  wrote  an  early  critic.  "His  appreciation 
of  the  part  he  had  to  play  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  opportunity  it  might  afford  him  of  developing 
a  passion  or  eccentricity  of  mind." 
Holland's  effects  were  broad  and  solid ;  they  were  the 
product  of  trickery  and  they  raised  curiosity  on  the 
part  of  those  who  saw  them.  He  and  Sothern  had 
much  in  common;  they  were  both  practical  jokers; 
they  were  both  humorists.  But  the  framework  of  their 
several  abilities  was  different.  Sothern  was  minute,  a 
close  observer  of  human  nature.  Holland  was  not. 
Yet  he  could,  when  he  wanted  to,  score  in  legitimate 
parts. 

The  managers  of  the  Bowery  were  fully  satisfied; 
they  made  better  financial  arrangements  with  him, 
and  sent  him  to  Boston  where  he  was  to  play  at  the 
Tremont  Theatre.  In  that  city  he  met  his  old  friend, 
Tom  Flynn,  who  was  then  stage-manager  of  the 
Federal  Street  Theatre.  Holland's  short  engagement 
266 


was  a  thorough  success;  he  returned  to  New  York  "^h^ 
where  he  found  another  old  friend,  Vincent  DeCamp,  ^j^  ._  ^ 
acting  stage-manager  of  the  Bowery.  Holland  now  i^OlldttO^ 
travelled  to  and  fro,  going  again  to  Boston  and  play- 
ing at  the  Federal  Street  Theatre;  then  back  to  the 
Bowery;  and  next  to  Albany,  where  he  appeared  at 
the  Pearl  Street  Theatre,  managed  by  "William  For- 
rest. James  H.  Caldwell  soon  secured  him  for  the 
Camp  Street  Theatre  in  New  Orleans,  but  before  turn- 
ing South,  Holland  went  to  Salem,  and  thence  to  the 
Arch,  under  Wood,  and  to  the  Walnut,  under  Cowell, 
besides  playing  at  the  New  York  Park. 
On  his  way  South  he  stopped  at  Baltimore,  Rich- 
mond, Augusta,  and  Mobile,  in  which  latter  place  he 
was  entertained  by  N.  M,  Ludlow,  who  became  a  life- 
long friend.  Besides  "The  Day  After  the  Fair,"  Hol- 
land added  "Sweethearts  and  Wives"  to  his  pro- 
gramme, which  opened  the  New  Orleans  Theatre  on 
January  21,  1829.  During  his  engagement  he  like- 
wise presented  "Paul  Pry,"  and  appeared  as  Thomas 
in  "The  Secret,"  a  farce  in  which  he  sang  "Wedlock 
is  a  Ticklish  Thing."  So,  too,  he  was  Dominie  Samp- 
son in  a  production  of  "Guy  Mannering,"  and  Greg- 
ory in  a  farce  called  "Turned  Out."  He  now  passed 
under  the  direction  of  Junius  Brutus  Booth  at  Natch- 
ez. On  September  30,  1829,  he  took  a  benefit  at 
the  New  York  Bowery,  and  then  went  on  tour  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  R.  Blake,  who  were  being  managed 
by  T.  A.  Cooper.  During  the  summer  of  the  next  year 
he  was  living  at  Yorkville,  New  York,  where  "Hol- 
land's Cottage"  became  a  well-known  centre  of  in- 
terest. All  this  time  he  seems  to  have  been  winning 
friends,  but  as  a  manager  of  affairs  he  showed  the 
poorest  capabilities. 

For  nearly  a  year,  during  the  season  of  1831-32, 
he  had  business  dealings  with  Cooper,  travelling 
through  the  South  and  thence  going  to  Pittsburg. 
After  this  his  association  commenced  with  Ludlow, 

267 


'(2t.ll  C  who  welcomed  him  into  his  household,  and  made  the 

li^nlT^  t^^i   acquaintance  of  Holland's  first  wife. 

l^OlinnO^  Ludlow  watched  Holland  closely.  "As  an  actor  he 
was  very  animated  and  rapid,"  wrote  the  man- 
ager, "keeping  his  audience  in  constant  good 
humor  the  entire  time  of  his  being  on  the  stage." 
Ludlow  and  Holland  now  went  through  Kentucky 
and  Tennessee,  giving  entertainments,  and  dur- 
ing 1832,  when  cholera  broke  out,  Holland's  fund 
of  good  spirits  did  much  to  cheer  the  stricken  com- 
munities. 

During  1834  the  manager,  Sol  Smith,  entered  into 
partnership  with  Holland,  and  the  two  went  to  Mont- 
gomery, Alabama,  opening  the  theatre  there  on 
January  i6th;  they  had  with  them  Jane  Placide 
and  George  H.  Barrett.  While  the  association  was  a 
pleasant  one,  the  venture  was  not  over-prosperous, 
so  Holland  turned  to  New  Orleans,  where  he  became 
secretary  to  the  Gaslight  and  Banking  Company. 
He  was  not  to  remain  long  in  this  position,  for  J.  H. 
Caldwell  erected  the  new  St.  Charles  Theatre,  and 
secured  Holland  as  his  private  secretary,  as  well  as 
his  official  treasurer.  While  there  the  actor  was 
brought  in  direct  intercourse  with  Charlotte  Cush- 
man,  J.  W.  Wallack,  Madame  Celeste,  Mrs.  Hunt, 
Mrs.  Kinlock,  Booth,  Forrest,  Ellen  Tree,  Vanden- 
hoff,  Buckstone,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sloman,  and  Tyrone 
Power. 

Holland  exhibited  clear-sightedness  and  wisdom  in 
his  advice ;  yet  acting  on  his  own  initiative,  he  was 
often  venturesome.  For  instance,  when  Fanny  Ellsler 
arrived  in  New  Orleans,  he  made  a  contract  with  her 
for  six  nights,  at  one  thousand  dollars  a  night,  in- 
cluding a  benefit — this  in  the  face  of  the  fact  that  at 
the  Park  Theatre  in  New  York  she  had  netted  Man- 
ager Simpson  a  great  loss.  The  speculation  fortu- 
nately ended  well.  While  at  the  St.  Charles,  Holland 
played  in  a  cast  of  "The  School  for  Scandal" 
268 


E.    M.    HOLLAND 


with  Miss  Tree,  and  also  in  "Much  Ado  About  Noth-    C^l)C 
ing"  with  Mr.  Caldwell. 

The  St.  Charles  Theatre  was  burned  on  March  13, 
1842,  and  with  it  was  destroyed  the  famous  wig 
Garrick  had  given  to  the  Jefferson  of  his  day.  Hol- 
land, by  his  earnestness,  had  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  learned  Dr.  Dionysius  Lardner,  who,  on  a 
lecturing  tour  through  the  States,  now  employed  him 
as  manager.  This  engagement  once  terminated,  Hol- 
land— always  a  favorite  in  the  South — turned  again 
toward  New  York. 

Here  he  made  his  first  long  contract;  he  found  his 
friend  Mitchell,  v»^ho  had  played  with  him  in  the  De 
Camp  Company  at  Newcastle,  managing  the  Olympic 
Theatre,  and  with  him  Holland  remained  from  1843 
to  1849,  appearing  in  a  long  Ust  of  plays,  including 
as  the  opening  attraction  on  September  4th,  "A  Day 
After  the  Fair"  and  "The  Bill  of  Fare,"  followed  later 
by:  "Who's  the  Composer?"  "Lend  Me  Five  Shil- 
hngs"  (Golightly),  "The  Devil  in  Paris,"  "Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Caudle"  (Mrs.  Caudle),  "A  Wife  for  an  Hour," 
"Robinson  Crusoe  the  Second,"  "Box  and  Cox" 
(1848),  and  "Kissing  Goes  by  Favor."  The  summer 
of  1844  he  spent  at  Niblo's  Garden,  acting  in  "The 
Child  of  the  Regiment"  and  "Open  Sesame."  In  1848 
he  was  "Dramatic  Director"  of  Castle  Garden. 
Once  more  he  was  called  South,  in  1849,  where  he 
joined  the  troupe  which  Thomas  Placide  had  gathered 
together  for  the  New  Orleans  Varieties  Theatre. 
Holland's  entire  professional  career  was  brightened 
by  the  friends  he  attracted.  One,  Dr.  Northall,  in  a 
volume  "Before  and  Behind  the  Curtain;  or,  Fifteen 
Years'  Observations  among  the  Theatres  of  New 
York,"  attested  to  his  ready  response  to  fun  of  all 
kinds;  and  Chanfrau,  according  to  Morrell,  sounded 
the  two  contrasting  elements  in  his  nature :  his  com- 
ical antics  as  a  comedian,  and  his  sterling  worth  as 
a  man  and  as  a  father, 

269 


i^ollanDjs 


aZu^C  Holland  soon  entered  upon  another  engagement  at 

l^flll^llhS    Burton's  Chambers  Street  Theatre;  he  then  passed 

^  under  Wallack,  with  whose  organization  he  remained 

until  the  season  of  1867-68,  turning  away  but  once, 

when  financial   conditions   prompted   him   to   sign 

with  Wood's  minstrels  (1857). 

Wallack's  third  season  had  begun  when  Holland 
joined  him  on  September  12,  1855,  appearing  as 
Chubb  in  Brougham's  "Game  of  Love."  Skimming 
the  years,  we  come  to  Boucicault's  "The  Octoroon," 
played  at  the  Winter  Garden  Theatre  on  December 
5,  1859,  with  Holland  as  Sunnyside  in  a  cast  includ- 
ing Jefferson  and  Stoddart.  During  1866  a  notable 
performance  of  "She  Stoops  to  Conquer"  was  given, 
with  Lester  Wallack  as  young  Marlow,  Mary  Gan- 
non as  Miss  Hardcastle,  and  Mrs.  Vernon  as  Mrs. 
Hardcastle.  Holland,  now  seventy-five  years  old, 
came  out  as  Tony  Lumpkin.  "He  was  remarkable," 
exclaimed  John  Gilbert,  stage-manager  for  the  oc- 
casion. It  was  probably  this  very  performance,  or 
another  about  this  time,  which  Rose  Eytinge  recalls 
in  her  "Memories" — that  occasion  when  some  old 
lady  saw  Holland  waiting  at  the  stage  door  for  his 
son  "Ned,"  and,  being  told  that  he  was  the  Tony 
Lumpkin  of  the  evening's  play,  flung  her  arms  ec- 
statically around  his  neck,  exclaiming,  "God  bless 
you,  Tony." 
Keese  writes : 

Holland  brought  to  Wallack's  a  wide  and  varied  ex- 
perience. He  had  played  in  every  city  of  consequence 
in  the  Union,  was  well  known  and  esteemed  in  the 
profession,  had  achieved  popularity  wherever  he  ap- 
peared, and  was  admitted  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of 
rivalry  in  his  peculiar  line.  That  peculiar  line  soon 
became  known  at  Wallack's  and  many  an  old  playgoer 
can  still  remember  Holland's  diverting  drollery.  Some- 
times he  played  a  part  with  such  surprisingly  comic 
effect  that  it  seemed  like  a  new  creation,  as  in  the  case 
of  Bunberry  Kobb  [September  30,  i863j,in  Lester  Wal- 

270 


lack's  "Rosedale,"  where  in  the  quadrille  he  convulsed 
the  house  by  his  ludicrous  effort  to  dance  the  figures  in 
accordance  with  the  little  manual  he  carried. 

In  1869  the  veteran  actor  became  one  of  the  Daly 
Company,  playing  for  the  last  time  on  the  evening  of 
January  12,  1870,  when  he  entered  as  a  reporter  in 
Olive  Logan's  "Surf."  Previously,  on  August  16, 
1869,  he  had  acted  Bodmin  Podger  in  Robertson's 
"Play,"  supporting  E.  L.  Davenport,  George  Clark, 
and  Agnes  Ethel.  But  now  Holland  was  practically 
incapacitated,  though  Daly  continued  to  reckon  his 
name  on  the  pay  list  of  the  week.  On  May  15,  1870,  a 
large  benefit — not  the  one  planned  by  Wallack,  Jef- 
ferson, Booth,  Barney  Williams,  and  others,  and  aban- 
doned because  of  misunderstanding,  but  one  accom- 
pUshed  by  Daly — took  place  at  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Theatre,  where  "Frou  Frou"  was  played.  Between  the 
acts  a  letter  was  read  as  though  Holland  were  speak- 
ing, and  when  the  curtain  fell,  the  respected  come- 
dian sat,  surrounded  by  his  company  and  his  mana- 
ger, whom  he  regarded  with  warmest  affection. 
George  Holland  died  at  his  home,  509  Third  Avenue, 
New  York,  on  December  20,  1870,  and  was  buried  at 
the  Church  of  the  Transfiguration,  on  Twenty-ninth 
Street,  near  Fifth  Avenue,  ever  after  known  as  "The 
Little  Church  Around  the  Comer,"  for  thus  it  had 
been  stigmatized  by  a  church  that  had  refused  the 
actor  burial.  The  story  has  been  so  often  told  that  it 
scarce  needs  repeating.  A  committee,  including  E. 
M.  Holland  and  Joseph  Jefferson,  called  on  the 
pastor  of  Mrs.  Holland's  church  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  the  funeral,  and  to  the  consternation  of 
all,  the  minister  announced  that  because  of  the 
dead  man's  profession,  the  burial  service  would  be 
denied  him.  Probably  the  Reverend  Doctor  would 
have  considered  more  carefully  if  he  had  been  able 
to  conjure  up  the  storm  of  protest  and  criticism  his 
actions  called  forth.  He  was  blunt  and  outspoken, 

271 


'^l)C  seemingly  without  thought  of  Holland's  son,  who  was 

w^  --  j,^  witness  to  all  that  occurred,  "Well,  sir,"  said  Jeffer- 
t^OlianO?  son,  "where  may  we  turn  in  our  dilemma?"  "Oh," 
the  minister  replied,  "there's  a  little  church  around 
the  comer  that  has  no  such  scruples."  "Come,  then," 
exclaimed  Jefferson,  speaking  to  the  committee, 
"come,  and  God  bless  the  Little  Church  Around  the 
Comer," 

At  this  day  there  is  no  necessity  to  discuss  such  big- 
otry which  had  neither  the  dignity  of  Puritanical 
aloofness  nor  showed  any  of  the  sweetness  of  Chris- 
tian charity.  There  are  some  who  believe  the  Doctor 
was  wronged ;  that  he  did  not  raise  any  objections  to 
Holland's  being  an  actor,  but  called  attention  to  the 
fact  that  his  church  was  in  festal  decoration  for  a 
wedding.  Yet  the  word  was  spoken,  even  as  Jefferson 
recorded.  Ever  since  then  "The  Little  Church  Around 
the  Comer"  has  been  the  actors'  church. 
An  estimate  of  George  Holland  must  consider  varied 
elements.  In  private  life  he  was  loving  and  gentle — 
one  who  was  genial  as  a  host  and  kind  as  a  husband 
and  father.  He  was  a  great  reader,  and  despite  his 
humor,  which  was  bom  of  the  slightest  suggestion, 
his  serious  vein  was  not  difficult  to  find.  As  a  friend 
he  was  beloved ;  he  had  the  happy  faculty  of  winning 
confidence  and  of  holding  attention.  "The  useful 
career  and  unblemished  character  of  George  Hol- 
land," wrote  Jefferson,  "will  be  recalled  by  all  who 
knew  him.  He  lived,  a  bright  and  cheerful  spirit,  in 
this  world  for  eighty  years,  for  time  could  not  age 
his  youthful  heart.  He  was  the  merriest  man  I  ever 
knew." 

It  is  just  this  word  "merry"  that  stuns  up  the  artistic 
life  of  Holland.  His  was  good-natured  fun,  grotesque, 
cartoonish  at  times,  yet  ever  untinctured  with  vi- 
ciousness.  Like  Sothem,  his  practical  jokes  were 
accepted  as  a  matter  of  course  by  those  who  knew 
him.  They  were  not  confined  to  the  privacy  of 
272 


his  home,  but  without  warning,  while  walking  in  the    "^IjE 
street,  Holland  would  think  of  some  startUng  thing    lanllaitflrt 
and  put  the  suggestion  into  instant  execution.  He     *7^*^^^*^'^'^ 
was  known  to  fall  in  a  fit  on  the  sidewalk,  and, 
when  carried  into  a  drug  store,  to  get  up  quietly  and 
walk  out,  while  the  astonished  crowd  drew  back  in 
wonder  and  surprise.  Once,  so  the  story  runs,  he 
went  goldfishing  in  a  public  fountain,  and  told  a 
policeman  who  remonstrated  that  he  was  in  his  own 
private  grounds.  Of  course,  after  he  had  finished  his 
joke,  Holland  was  always  fortunate  in  setting  matters 
aright.  He  was  a  famiUar  figure  at  Fulton  Market,  in 
New  York,  where  his  passion  for  oysters  was  thor- 
oughly appeased.  He  had  a  way  of  "unexpectedly" 
falling  into  the  water  close  at  hand,  to  be  rescued 
hastily,  while  bystanders  searched  his  pockets  for  an 
identification  card.  Perhaps  those  pockets  would  be 
filled  with  tickets  for  his  benefit;  if  so,  the  kind- 
hearted   crowd   would   buy  them  up,  Holland    the 
while  chuckling  to  himself,  and  viewing  the  scene 
with  half-closed  eyes.  No  actor  was  more  successful 
with  benefits  than  George  Holland,  and  after  his 
death,  the  testimonials  given  by  theatres  from  coast 
to   coast  in  aid  of  his  family  were  the  crowning 
evidences  of  a  public's  good-will.   In    one    of   his 
critiques,  William  Winter    calls  attention    to    the 
physical  defects  which  marked  most  of  the  actors 
of  distinction.  There  was  Garrick  with  his  sputter- 
ing, Kean  with  his  raven  voice,  John  Kemble  with 
asthma,   Macready  with    his   stammering,   Forrest 
who  "chewed  his  cud,"  and  Holland  who  snufl3ed. 
"Ah,   that    snuflie,"   exclaimed    one    of    his    sons, 
"none  of  us  have  it.  It  was  so  funny!"  It  was  purely 
an  acquired  habit,  one  which  Holland  always  intro- 
duced at  moments  when  gravity  was  most  to  be  ex- 
pected. At  the  christening  of  his  son  Joseph,  when 
many  were  tearful,  as  many  are  on  joyful  occasions, 
Holland  snuffled,  and  put  his  handkerchief  to  his 

273 


'^IjC  eyes.  Every  one  knew  that  snuffle,  and  tears  gave 

I[^n11^ti7ict  way  to  uncontrollable  mirth.  Holland  was  an  "inevita- 
i^OllaUO?  |,ie"  humorist;  he  could  no  more  have  helped  taking 
advantage  of  the  moment  than  Forrest  could  have  in 
pouring  torrents  of  animal  vitality  into  all  his  roles. 
Holland  was  popular;  the  farce  was  popular.  None 
of  his  sons  possess  his  peculiar  gift ;  they  are  all  dis- 
tinctly comedians  of  serious  cast.  Keese  says  of  the 
father : 

He  has  left  no  theatrical  comedy  portraits  of  finished 
excellence  that  stand  out  as  exemplars  like  those  of 
Placide  and  Blake.  Indeed,  he  often  set  at  naught  all 
the  rules,  principles,  and  piurposes  of  legitimate  acting. 

Such  was  the  player,  "the  ever-renowned  George, 
the  kind-hearted  George,  the  well-remembered  and 
deeply  regretted  George!"  Ludlow  loved  him,  they 
all  loved  him,  and  besides,  what  higher  gift  is  there 
than  the  ability  to  make  the  world  forget  its  sorrows ! 
Around  1839  Holland  married  Catherine  De  Luce, 
daughter  of  Nathaniel  De  Luce,  who  was  leader  of 
the  old  Park  Theatre  Orchestra.  Three  of  their  sons 
became  actors,  and  their  only  daughter,  Kate,  was 
stricken  down  just  at  the  commencement  of  a  career 
which  held  forth  great  promise.  She  was  acting  with 
the  Daly  Company  when  "Pique"  was  presented  on 
December  14,  1875.  Shortly  after,  she  died. 
George,  the  eldest  son,  was  bom  in  New  York  on 
July  6,  1846,  and  received  his  education  in  New  Or- 
leans, He  was  on  the  stage  early,  assuming  boys' 
characters,  and  then  supporting  Lawrence  Barrett. 
In  1869  he  played  with  Laura  Keene  at  the  Chestnut 
Street  Theatre,  soon  after  becoming  chief  comedian 
of  McVicker's  Theatre  in  Chicago,  where  he  sup- 
ported Cushman,  Booth,  Adams,  Jefferson,  Adelaide 
Neilson,  and  others.  Three  years  were  thus  spent,  and 
then  followed  another  three  in  Philadelphia.  He  next 
joined  E.  A.  Sothern,  with  whom  he  acted  for  over  a 
274 


year,  going  to  the  London  Haymarket  with  him.     '^hC 
Returning  to  America,  he  became  a  member  of  John    yv*    n       j.^ 
T.  Raymond's  company.  His  ability  as  a  stage-mana-    l^OllaUOSj 
ger  was  then  developed,  and  by  1891,  he  assumed 
control  of  the  Girard  Avenue  Theatre  in  Philadelphia, 
where  for  five  years  he  was  successful  with  a  stock 
company.  Still  active  upon  the  stage,  Mr.  Holland  has 
passed  from  year  to  year  under  the  management  of 
Frohman,  Belasco,  and  others.  His  Sir  Peter  Teazle 
is  thought  by  some  to  have  been  his  best  role. 
Edmvmd  Milton  Holland  was  bom  in  New  York  on 
September  7,  1848,  and  at  the  youthful  age  of  fifteen, 
after  a  school  education,  was  call-boy  at  Mrs.  John 
Wood's   Olympic   Theatre,  situated  on   Broadway, 
just    above   Bleecker   Street,   a   house   familiar  to 
theatre-goers  of    1858  as  Laura  Keene's  Theatre. 
But  before  this  year  1863,  the  youthful  actor  had 
made  his  appearance.  Down  at  Wallack's  Lyceum, 
on  December  20,  1855,  a  playbill  showed  the  follow- 
ing cast : 

To  Parents  and  Guardians 

Waddilove   George  Holland 

Master  Joseph  Brower.  .Master  George  LeRoy  Holland 
Master  Thompson Master  E.  M.  Holland 

During  his  engagement  at  Mrs.  Wood's,  he  was  al- 
lowed occasionally  to  "come  on"  in  small  parts,  and 
thus  three  years  passed.  In  1866  he  was  at  the  New 
York  Bamum's  Museum,  but  soon  transferred  to 
Joseph  Jefferson's  company  which  was  then  about 
to  present  the  new  play  of  "Rip  Van  Winkle"! 
All  this  time  he  was  known  as  Mr.  E.  Milton. 
The  year  1867  found  Holland  at  the  Thirteenth  Street 
Wallack's  Theatre,  and  there  he  remained  thirteen 
seasons,  acquiring  much  experience  and  consider- 
able reputation.  He  had  inherited  a  great  deal  of 
his  father's  humor  and  drollery,  but  they  were 
tempered  and  refined  by  his  deep  insight  into  and 

275 


■^hf  respect  for  character.  He  made  a  most  satisfactory 

*i^  11  >*  Samuel  Gerridge  in  "Caste,"  and  his  plays  included 
1^0  UanDjS  "A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,"  "The  Road  to  Ruin," 
"School,"  and  those  countless  dramas  which  char- 
acterized the  Wallack  regime.  Here  Holland  came  in 
contact  with  Mathews,  Gilbert,  Fisher,  Ada  Dyas, 
Madame  Ponisi,  Stoddart,  Boucicault,  and  E.  L. 
Davenport. 

In  1880  Mr.  Holland  was  managed  by  A.  M.  Palmer, 
who  presented  him  in  "French  Flats,"  and  he  next 
went  abroad  with  McKee  Rankin,  where  at  Sadler's 
Wells  Theatre  he  played  the  Judge  in  "The  Dan- 
ites."  During  this  period  he  toured  Scotland  and  Ire- 
land, returning  to  America  under  the  management  of 
Henry  E.  Abbey,  who  mounted  "The  Mother-in- 
Law"  and  "After  the  Ball"  at  his  New  York  Park 
Theatre. 

Mr.  Holland  next  joined  the  Madison  Square  Theatre 
in  1882,  and  assumed  the  r61e  of  Pittacus  Green  in 
"Hazel  Kirke,"  later  supporting  Laura  Don  in  "A 
Daughter  of  the  Nile."  Then  he  appeared  in  "The 
Private  Secretary,"  "The  Young  Mrs.  Winthrop," 
and  "Esmeralda"  under  Daniel  Frohman.  This  en- 
gagement was  succeeded  by  Palmer  again,  and  Mr. 
Holland  played  in  a  long  list  of  dramas :  Lathrop's 
"Elaine"  (with  Alexander  Salvini  and  Annie  Russell, 
December  6,  1887),  "Saints  and  Sinners,"  "Jim  the 
Penman,"  "Captain  Swift"  (with  Maurice  Barry- 
more,  Agnes  Booth,  and  Marie  Burroughs),  "A  Pair 
of  Spectacles,"  and  "Alabama"  among  the  num- 
ber. 

His  star  part  in  F.  Hopkinson  Smith's  "Colonel 
Carter  of  Cartersville"  was  not  a  great  success ;  other- 
wise, the  actor's  excellence  met  with  cordial  recog- 
nition. In  1893-94  Mr.  Holland  filled  a  long  engage- 
ment in  San  Francisco,  after  which  he  supported 
Olga  Nethersole  at  Palmer's  Theatre,  and  on  Febru- 
ary 6,  1893,  played  with  Barrymore,  Julia  Arthur, 
276 


Cl^e 


and  Mrs.  D.  P.  Bowers  in  "Lady  Windermere's 
Fan."  Then  it  was  that  the  two  brothers,  E.  M.  and 
Joseph  Holland  came  together  under  Richard  Mans-  ^OlldtttllSi 
field's  management,  and  gave  an  estimable  produc- 
tion of  "The  Social  Highwayman,"  to  which  was 
added  "The  Man  with  a  Past."  In  1896  the  two  went 
on  a  starring  tour,  presenting  "A  Superfluous  Hus- 
band," and  on  May  6th  of  that  year  they  joined  the 
Jefferson  star-cast  in  "The  Rivals."  Then,  during 
1897-98,  E.  M.  Holland  passed  under  the  regime  of 
Charles  Frohman.  Since  that  time  his  chief  success 
has  been  with  Kyrle  Bellew  in  "Raffles"  [managed 
by  George  Tyler],  a  character  of  melodrama  that 
is  kept  from  being  sensational  by  the  excellent 
refinement  of  the  acting.  Like  Gillette's  "Sher- 
lock Holmes,"  "Raffles"  is  a  play  which,  either 
on  Broadway  or  the  Bowery,  would  attract  its 
public. 

So  close  a  bond  connects  E.  M.  and  Joseph  Holland 
that  it  is  well  to  consider  the  latter's  career  before 
attempting  any  classification. 

It  is  needless  to  say  after  whom  Joseph  Jefferson 
Holland  was  named.  He  was  bom  in  New  York  on 
December  20,  i860. 

At  the  age  of  six  he  appeared  for  a  while  in  Mrs. 
Wood's  production  of  "Cinderella,"  and  supported 
J.  H.  Stoddart.  After  a  thorough  schooling  he  en- 
tered business  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  but  soon 
abandoned  trade  for  the  stage,  when,  on  March  25, 
1878,  he  appeared  with  George  Rignold  in  "Henry 
V."  In  1878-79  he  joined  his  brother  George  in 
Philadelphia,  and  played  Antonio  in  "The  Merchant 
of  Venice,"  a  part  totally  unfitted  to  his  talents. 
Season  by  season  saw  Holland  in  new  roles,  in  new 
support,  and  under  new  management. 

1878-79.  Wallack's :  "Spellbound,"  with  Rose  Coghlan. 
1879-80.  With  John  T.  Raymond:  "Woolfert's  Roost," 
"Col.  Sellers,"  etc.  Toured  as  juvenile. 

277 


1880-81.  With  George  Holland:  "Our  Gentlemen 
Friends." 

1881-83.  With  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McKee  Rankin:  "The 
Danites,"  "William  and  Susan,"  and  "49." 

1883-84.  On  tour  as  leading  man  in  "A  Mountain  Peril." 

1884-85.  With  Clara  Morris:  "Miss  Moulton,"  "Article 
47,"  etc.  In  the  summer  with  Rankin  on 
the  Pacific  slope. 

1885-86.  San  Francisco,  with  Rankin,  during  which 
engagement  "I  played  everything  from 
light  comedy  to  tragedy,  a  wonderful  ex- 
perience, under  splendid  direction." 

1886-89.  With  Daly,  during  which  time  he  went 
to  California,  and  to  London,  playing  in 
Shakespeare. 

1889-90.  In  "Great  Metropolis,"  and  on  tour  in  "Shen- 
andoah." 

1890-91.  A  varied  season:  Heavy  r61e  in  "Reckless 
Temple,"  supporting  Maurice  Barrymore; 
"Men  and  Women,"  and  "Mr.  Wilkinson's 
Widows,"  in  which  he  had  a  "great  part 
in  a  fine  comedy." 

1891-92.  Toured  in  the  comedy  with  Georgie  Drew 
Barrymore;  thus  beginning  a  company  to 
be  known  shortly  afterward  as  "Charles 
Frohman's  Comedians." 

1892-93.  With  the  "Comedians"  in  Gillette's  "Settled 
Out  of  Court,"  which  was  used  on  tour, 
with  "The  Sportsman,"  and  "The  Arabian 
Nights." 

1893-94.  Toured  with  the  "Comedians"  in  "The  Other 
Man" ;  with  Henrietta  Crosman  in  "Mrs. 
Grundy,  Jr.,"  "Wilkinson's  Widows." 

1894-95.  With  Rose  Coghlan  in  "The  Check  Book"; 
then  joined  his  brother  George's  stock  com- 
pany at  the  Philadelphia  Girard  Avenue 
Theatre. 

1895-96.  With  E.  M.  Holland  in  "The  Social  Highway- 
man." 

1896-97.  With  E.  M.  Holland  in  above,  "Two  Men  of 
Business,"  "A  Superfluous  Husband"; 
then  in  Crawford's  "Dr.  Claudius";  then 
with  Annie  Russell  in  "The  Mysterious 
Mr.  Bugle." 

1897-98.  Starred  in  "The  Mysterious  Mr.  Bugle." 

1898-99.  With  Miss  Russell  in  "Catherine";  then  "At 
the  White  Horse  Tavern,"  with  Amelia 
Bingham;  "The  Cuckoo,"  presented  later. 
278 


i899-i900'  Toured  with  Ethel  Barrymore  in  "His  Ex-     ^Vk* 
cellency  the  Governor."  wijv 

igoo-i.  111.  Then   in   Philadelphia   as  George  Wash-     |A^1l4«*>i£v 
ington  in  "Betsy  Ross."  l^Oli«IlUX> 

1901-2.  With  William  Faversham  in  "The  Royal 
Rival,"  an  adaptation  of  "Don  Caesar  de 
Bazan";  later  with  Miss  Bingham  in  "A 
Modern  Magdalen,"  with  which  company 
he  went  on  tour  in  1902-3. 

Such  activity  as  this  afforded  Mr.  Holland  ample  op- 
portunity to  show  his  versatility ;  in  all  he  did  there 
was  a  quiet  dignity,  a  careful  attention  to  detail  which 
lent  to  his  work  polish  and  distinction.  On  March  24, 
1905,  he  was  accorded  a  benefit  by  his  professional 
associates,  which  will  go  on  record  as  one  of  those 
historic  responses  which  serve  to  mark  actors,  as  a 
class,  for  their  generous  impulses  and  largeness  of 
heart  at  vital  moments. 

The  Holland  brothers  are  representative  of  a  rich 
vein  in  dramatic  history;  their  comedy  is  less 
broad,  far  gentler  than  the  methods  practised  by 
their  father;  it  exhibits  a  certain  delicate  manner 
which  shows  charm  of  personality  and  wholesomeness 
of  purpose.  Whatever  character-roles  E.  M.  Holland 
has  assumed  have  been  marked  by  a  mastery  of 
classical  technique ;  his  training  is  of  the  school  that 
is  thorough — the  school  of  Wallack,  George  Parsons 
Lathrop  places  him  in  the  same  rank  with  John  Gil- 
bert and  Wilham  Warren. 

The  greatest  limitations  of  the  Hollands  have  been 
external  and  not  inherent.  They  would  all  have 
ranked  high  in  the  present  had  the  stock  system  not 
been  abandoned.  The  success  of  the  son,  George 
Holland,  is  one  generation  removed,  though  he  is 
still  on  the  stage.  It  is  with  E.  M.  and  Joseph  Holland 
that  playgoers  are  most  familiar.  And  in  recognizing 
them  we  show  that,  in  a  day  of  constant  change, 
we  have  not  lost  our  ideas  concerning  the  rare  worth 
of  true  comedians.  Joseph  is  more  of  the  type  best 

279 


■^ThC  suited  to  comedy  of  manners;  E.  M.  combines  that 

ability  with  an  excellent  power  of  "make-up"  which 

|^OllcinD0  affords  scope  for  character-parts.  The  sons  of  George 
Holland  are  men  of  more  legitimate  art.  They  can 
look  back  on  their  father's  work,  and  laugh  over  his 
wild  vagaries ;  they  cannot  imitate  them.  And  in  this 
respect  Holland  the  elder  occupies  a  unique  posi- 
tion. There  are  few  to  rank  with  him ;  his  very  name 
spelled  fun. 


280 


XI— THE  POWERS 


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dja  on") 

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CL  3  '^  o  =  Wi  I  9  o 
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'wife  a'tx        E  t, 
■^  o  o  *i        o  5 


XI— THE   POWERS 

||HERE  is  every  reason  to  include 
the  Powers  as  one  of  the  actor- 
families  in  America,  for  even 
though  none  of  them  may  lay 
claim  to  having  been  native 
bom,  four  generations  have 
turned  to  the  new  world,  and  at 
least  two  out  of  the  four  have 
become  closely  identified  with 
this  country's  dramatic  progress. 
The  name  Tyrone  Power  is  familiar  to  playgoers; 
wherever  it  is  mentioned  in  early  annals,  it  represents 
excellent  humor  and  intelligence ;  wherever  it  occurs 
in  actors'  reminiscences,  it  is  used  with  endearment 
and  good  feeling. 

Near  Kilmacthomas,  in  the  county  of  Waterford,  a 
coimty  laying  claim  to  Dora  Jordan  and  Charles 
Kean,  William  Grattan  Tyrone  Power  was  bom  on 
November  2,  1797,  during  those  troublous  times  when 
revolutions  were  making  republics.  The  father,  with 
small  fortune  and  unstable  health,  came  to  America, 
intent  on  establishing  a  home  for  his  wife  and  child, 
but  no  sooner  had  he  arrived  than  he  was  taken  ill 
with  fever,  and  died.  Mrs.  Power,  whose  maiden 
name  was  Maria  Maxwell,  and  whose  father  had 
fallen  in  the  British  ranks  during  our  War  for  Inde- 
pendence, was  now  left  to  care  for  her  only  child. 
In  1798  she  turned  from  Waterford,  her  jewels  hidden 
in  her  bodice,  and  proceeded  by  coach  to  Dublin. 
But  the  road  was  long  and  dangerous,  and  robbers 
stopped  her  carriage,  relieving  her  of  all  her  valu- 
ables, even  of  her  greatcoat  which  left  her  shivering 
and  cold  in  the  night  air. 

She  finally  reached  Dublin  and  thereupon  concluded 
to  sail  for  South  Wales.  But  misfortune  pursued  her, 
for  the  boat  was  wrecked  on  the  Welch  coast,  so  near 
the  shore  that  the  passengers  started  to  wade  to  land. 

283 


IjrilC  Mrs.  Power,  with  her  baby,  stepped  into  a  quicksand 

^^   .         ^    — ®^^y  *®  ^®  hastily  rescued.  Then  she  proceeded  to 
4^0lDCi9    Cardiff,  where  she  remained  for  several  years. 

Young  Tyrone's  education  was  not  systematic;  he 
picked  up  French  and  German ;  he  filled  his  head  with 
novels,  plays,  and  romances;  he  was  quick  to  grasp 
and  eager  to  use,  and,  without  ever  professing  to  any 
scholarship,  he  obtained  a  fund  of  information  in  a 
desultory  fashion.  He  was  at  this  period  of  youth,  as 
always,  a  patriotic  Irishman,  whose  feelings  over- 
flowed in  sonnets  and  odes  of  a  most  ornate  char- 
acter. 

Some  accounts  record  that  the  boy  was  trained  as  a 
printer,  a  mistake  based  upon  the  fact  that  in  Car- 
diff, the  Powers  had  a  distant  relative  named  Bird, 
who  was  a  bookseller,  publisher,  and  postmaster 
combined. 

No  one  thought,  when  Power  went  to  his  first  play  in 
Cardiff,  that  acting  would  strike  his  fancy;  he  was 
destined  for  the  army,  and  when  he  startled  his 
mother  by  his  contrary  decision,  she  opposed  his 
wild  ideas  of  becoming  a  player.  Power  did  not  wait 
to  argue  the  point ;  he  packed  up  his  belongings  and 
ran  away. 

He  commenced  at  the  bottom,  in  the  first  wandering 
troop  willing  to  engage  him.  He  was  Voltimand  and 
Donalbain,  he  was  Norval  and  Romeo,  he  was  any 
kind  of  a  walking  gentleman  that  any  manager 
wished  him  to  be.  In  1815  he  played  Alonzo  in  "Pi- 
zarro,"  and  for  the  next  two  seasons  he  had  a  diver- 
sity of  roles,  assuming  one  evening  an  aged  Irish- 
man, Hendrick,  in  "The  Heir-at-Law." 
During  1816  he  became  a  Mason,  but  never  was 
active  in  the  exercises  of  his  order.  He  was  thorough- 
ly discouraged  by  this  time ;  his  beginning  was  less 
than  passable  and  his  family  persisted  in  ignoring 
his  existence.  To  add  to  the  difficulty,  he  had  met  a 
charming  girl,  Miss  Gilbert,  whose  family  connec- 
284 


TYRONE    POWER 


1-9  3  / 


3 


RONE  POWER  STRICKEN 
lUDDENLYJNJHOLLYWOOD 

ted    English    Actor    Came    From 

Famous  Stage  Family 
ollywood,  Dec.  30.- (AP) -Tyrone 
Rrer,  62,  descendant  of  one  of  Eng- 
id's  most  famous  stage  families 
d  himself  a  dram.atic  actor  of 
|lo^-n,  died  miexpectedly  from  a 
lirt  attack  here  today  in  his  club 
urns. 

iHe    succumbed    but    three    weeks 
ter    his    arrival    here    from    New 
o-k  to  re-entsr  films  after   forty- 
b  years  before  the  footlights. 
power,  whose  grandfather  in  Eng- 
id  first  bore  his  name  and  estab- 
ed   it   among   the   ranks   of   the 
irs  of  the  Victorian  era,  suffered 
leart  attack. 
_,iree   weeks  ago  Power  came  to 
illywood  to  play  the  title  role  in 
he    Miracle    Man,"    and    about    a 
^ek's    work    had    been    completed, 
)st  of  the  actor's  life  had  been  de- 
ted    to    the    legitimate    stass,    al- 
ough    he    played   the    villain    last 
ir  in  the  talkie,  '-Tne  Big  Trail," 
d   had    appeared    in    silent    films 
ring  the  pioneer  days  of  the  mo- 
in  picture. 

He  rose  to  fame  in  New  York 
jre  than  two  decades  ago,  wiiining 
despread  attention  in  Shake- 
earean  plays,  and  in  "The  Wan- 
fering  Je-v,--  and  "The  Servant  in 
he  House." 

He  is  survived  by  a  son,  Tyrone, 
K,  a  daughtec,  Anne,  and  a  former 
ife,  mother  of  his  children,  Patia 
pwer,  once  an  actress  and  now  head 
(  a  dramatic  school  in  Cincinnati. 

■ho  was  rated  one  of  America's  pop- 

ir  actors.  Born  in  London,  in  1869, 

id  coming  to  this    country   as    a 

..youth,    this   second    "Tyrone"     had 

IjIfltArted  in  business    as  an    orange 

ower  in  Florida  and  when  still  in 

^  'teens  made  his  first  appearance 

1  the  stage  at  St.  Augustine  in  "The 

ivate     Secretary."     Later,     play- 

-rrs  throughout  the  United  States 

(,  and  England  kncv/  him  a.s  an  actor 
''«f  fine  Dhvsifjue.  hand.somc  appear- 


r^7 


vas  discriminating  and  well 
,  were  to  be  accepted  as  suf- 
approval,  there  could  be  no 
f  complaint."    Gielgud,  find- 
same  intentness  on  the  part 
udiences,  might    have    con- 
hat,  as  did  Power,  as  Phila- 
s  tribute  to  his  art, 
g  from  New  York,   in  the 
Df  1841,  on  the     then     new 
ip   "President,"  a  vessel  of 
is,  275  feet  in  length.  Power 
'or  Liverpool,  but  was  never 
from     again,    the    unsolved 
of  the     missing  ship  long 
ing  speculation  as  to  the  na- 
he  disaster  it  had  met — fire, 
id  collision  with  an  iceberg 
ggested. 


or  over— Poland's 


LIMITATIONS— HUSBAND  AND  WIFE: 
If  a  wife  paid  debts  of  her  deceased  hus- 
band and  then  dies,  the  administrator  of 
her  estate  haa  the  right  to  make  a  claim 
against  his  estate  If  the  money  was  loaned, 
but  If  his  estate  is  long  since  settled  and 
was  In  fact  Insolvent,  there  would  be  noth- 
ing gained  by  doing  so  where  there  la  no 
property  attachable.  The  Statute  of  Limita- 
tions does  not  apply  In  matters  between 
Husband  and  wife. — (H.  W.  0-) 

CONTRACT  —  HEATING  SYSTEM:  In 
)rder  to  ascertain  the  rights  of  a  finance 
;ompany  where  default  has  been  made  by 
he  owner  in  the  purchase  of  a  heating  sys- 
em  the  terms  and  provisions  of  the  agree- 
nent  should  be  read.  Modem  forms  give 
he  right  to  not  only  remove  the  system,  but 
ilso  to  enter  up  Judgment  for  the  balance 
lue  plus  fees,    costs,   etc..   and  when   judg- 


is   f 

V 

wai 

nes, 
nes 
wit 
upo 
nes 
ma: 

r 

pla 
pos 
ma 
Do) 
dell 

C 
dec 
the 
not 
die 
"n 

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4 


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_A(->n  on      AAniT'^  riiii'^  nt7'^     m      T'RRa 


tion  stretched  as  far  back  as  the  Norman  Conquest.    Cl^C 
The  two  instantly  fell  in  love,  and  old  Dr.  Thomas,    t^Q^p^^ 
the  lady's  guardian,  opposing  the  marriage,  a  second    ^  ^ 

runaway  (January,  1817)  graced  the  career  of  Ty- 
rone Power,  the  couple  counting  on  her  small  fort- 
une, which  would  come  to  her  in  two  years'  time. 
They  reached  Dublin,  where  Power's  patriotism 
spilled  over  in  verse : 

Restor'd  to  my  country,  no  kinsman  to  meet  me; 
In  the  land  of  my  fathers,  a  stranger  I  roam. 

The  young  husband  soon  secured  a  position,  and  on 
December  loth  of  that  year  (1817)  he  was  murdering 
the  text  of  "Romeo"  and  playing  Jeremy  Diddler  in 
"Raising  the  Wind."  The  impression  he  created  was 
poor.  Though  he  had  an  active  figure,  a  bright  face, 
and  a  keen  wit;  though  he  did  not  rant,  for  his  voice 
was  criticised  on  the  contrary  as  weak  and  husky, 
yet  he  seems  to  have  missed  any  fulness  of  interpre- 
tation. In  a  hst  of  long  plays  he  assumed  such  roles 
as  Gratiano,  Sir  Brilliant  Fashion  in  Murphy's  "The 
Way  to  Keep  Him,"  and  Richard  in  "The  Innkeep- 
er's Daughter."  Once  only  he  attempted  an  Irishman, 
Lieutenant  O'Connor,  in  Sheridan's  "St.  Patrick's 

Day." 

On  January  26,  18 18,  he  acted  with  Miss  Kelly, 
Lamb's  Miss  Kelly,  whom  Elia  loved,  in  Cibber's 
"She  Would  and  She  Would  Not,"  and  the  humorous 
criticism  which  followed  called  attention  to  the  fact 
that  if  gestures  meant  anything,  the  part  was  well 
played,  but  if  the  text  was  also  to  be  considered,  the 
words,  mostly  forgotten,  were  very  ill-spoken. 
Despite  his  cold  reception.  Power  was  not  to  be  out- 
done ;  despite  the  fact  also  that  a  man  named  Powell 
was  in  town  daring  to  levy  money  from  his  public 
m  his  name,  the  actor,  visiting  Ireland  in  1839,  spoke 
of  this  early  trip  with  his  wife  as  the  happiest  in  his 
career. 

285 


^v^  The  two  were  at  Margate  during  the  summer  of  1818, 

1D0\DCtjS  Power  playing  Dorincourt  in  "The  Belle's  Strata- 
gem"  and  Howard  in  "The  Will,"  supported  by  the 
ubiquitous  Miss  Sally  Booth.  Here  he  also  made  his 
first  attempt  at  a  comic  Irish  character,  playing 
Looney  McTwolter  in  "The  Review." 
Toward  the  end  of  that  year,  he  was  with  De  Camp 
at  Newcastle-on-Tyne,  of  whom  the  papers  spoke  as 
being  very  popular  with  the  inhabitants  "of  the 
great  carboniferous  emporium."  In  this  place  during 
June,  1S19,  his  eldest  son  was  born;  the  family  were 
in  better  circumstances  now,  for  Mrs.  Power  had 
come  into  her  own  small  inheritance. 
But  despite  the  happiness  of  his  home  life  and  the 
fortune  of  obtaining  engagements — even  though 
not  large  ones — whenever  he  desired  them.  Power 
was  anxious  to  leave  the  stage ;  all  early  illusions  had 
been  shattered  for  him.  He  first  considered  applying 
to  his  uncle,  a  man  of  high  position  in  the  Austrian 
army,  for  an  appointment,  but  was  deterred  because 
of  his  wife  and  child.  Far  better  it  would  have  been 
for  him,  however,  than  what  he  actually  did.  He  be- 
came involved  in  some  wild  speculation  with  a  Brit- 
ish army  officer;  they  planned  to  form  a  settlement 
in  the  African  Cape  territory.  Power's  next  move, 
naturally  was  to  place  his  family  in  the  care  of 
friends,  and  set  sail  in  June,  1820,  for  this  realm  of 
promise.  As  his  boat  left  shore,  he  began  writing 
verses  of  farewell  to  his  native  land.  Then  he  started 
his  diary,  which,  kept  systematically,  was  unfortu- 
nately lost. 

Arrived  in  the  wilds,  adventure  after  adventure  be- 
fell him.  In  later  years,  during  1848,  when  Power's 
son  was  serving  in  the  Commissariat  Department 
stationed  at  New  Zealand,  he  met  an  officer  who  had 
known  his  father  during  1820.  Memory  conjured  up 
the  actor's  genial,  kind  disposition  and  his  impul- 
siveness which  led  him  into  danger.  Indeed,  Power 
286 


had  his  quota  of  the  latter ;  he  was  chased  by  lions  in  ,^i*  >» 
the  jungle;  he  jumped  into  the  sea  to  save  a  drown-  ^*^^ 
ing  man,  and  once  on  shore,  laughed  at  the  close  |^OtUCt|S( 
call  he  had  from  being  snapped  up  by  sharks.  He 
made  friends  of  the  natives,  one  chief,  out  of  pure 
love  and  affection,  tattooing  the  actor's  arm  with 
some  cabalistic  device.  Not  content  with  these  "mild" 
occurrences,  Power  started  off  by  himself  on  a  forag- 
ing tour,  and  for  one  year  was  lost  to  civilization. 
People  thought  him  dead,  his  family  in  England 
despaired  of  his  fate,  officers  spoke  of  him  in  remi- 
niscent mood.  Then  one  day,  scant  of  clothes,  with 
long  hair,  and  matted  beard  hanging  from  his  face — 
much  hke  Kipling's  Man  Who  Was — Tyrone  Power 
returned,  his  enthusiasm  at  ebb-tide,  his  investments 
shrivelled  to  the  merest  nothing.  He  did  not  delay ;  he 
embarked  on  a  slow-sailing  brig  for  home.  The  word 
sounded  sweet  to  his  ears!  Yet  Africa  had  not  taken 
the  romantic  mood  from  him.  As  the  ship  passed 
Saint  Helena,  an  eagle  soared  into  the  air;  it  hap- 
pened to  be  the  very  day  Napoleon  died,  but  unaware 
of  that.  Power  allowed  his  poet's  fancy  to  conceive 
the  incident  as  emblem  of  the  great  little  man's  fate. 
It  is  to  be  remarked  that  when  he  returned  to  Eng- 
land from  his  second  trip  to  America,  Power  was 
laid  up  in  his  berth  with  injuries  received  in  Virginia, 
where  he  had  been  thrown  from  a  horse.  Louis  Napo- 
leon, on  board,  was  his  constant  attendant. 
Much  wiser,  Power  sought  no  other  speculation  after 
his  African  experience.  John  Johnstone,  the  Irish 
comedian,  arriving  at  an  age  when  he  thought  it  best 
to  retire,  the  field  presented  a  fairer  prospect,  though 
as  yet  Power  had  not  discovered  his  special  aptitude 
for  Irish  roles.  That  there  was  considerable  similarity 
in  the  lives  of  these  two  players,  Calcraft's  minute 
contrast  will  satisfy,  but  it  was  still  to  be  a  long  time 
before  Power  was  to  win  recognition  as  an  Irish 
comedian. 

287 


(Thf  EUiston  next  offered  him  an  opportunity  to  prove 

his  worth.  '*Come  to  Drury  Lane,"  said  the  famous 

|D0\t)Ctj5  actor-manager;  "I  will  give  you  a  trial  night,  and  if 
you  succeed,  I'll  engage  you."  So  it  was  that  on 
August  20,  1 82 1,  Power  played  Tristram  Fickle  in 
"The  Weather  Cock";  but  he  failed  to  win  his  au- 
dience, or  to  secure  the  post.  The  vacancy  had  been 
caused  by  an  actor  being  cast  into  prison  for  debt, 
and  Power  saw  Hamblin  step  into  the  much  coveted 
place.  Minor  roles  were  now  given  him  in  various 
towns,  one  of  them — a  part  secured  because  he  was 
an  excellent  rider. 

Power  did  not  see  any  art  in  all  this.  He  was  dis- 
gusted, and  was  again  turning  over  in  his  mind  the 
probability  of  a  military  appointment  when  Miss 
Sally  Booth  loomed  on  the  horizon  with  advice.  For 
once,  the  early  enemy  of  the  great  Junius  Brutus 
Booth  became  the  turning-point  in  a  career;  through 
her.  Power  was  engaged  for  the  Lyceum  on  July  2, 
1822,  and  through  this  management  he  was  event- 
ually to  be  turned  into  the  channel  of  Irish  charac- 
ters. When  he  played  with  Charles  Kemble  in  "The 
Rivals,"  taking  the  part  of  Fag,  his  work  was  liked ; 
when  he  went  to  the  Olympic,  his  ability  as  stage- 
manager  was  recognized.  Here  he  made  a  pronounced 
stride.  He  was  soon  engaged  for  the  Adelphi,  where 
on  January  19,  1824,  he  appeared  in  "St.  Ronan's 
Well" ;  he  then  played  Larry  Hoolagan  in  "The  Irish 
Valet,"  forced  into  the  part  much  against  his  will. 
The  result  was  that  he  was  a  complete  success,  his 
role  being  the  first  of  that  series  of  drunken  charac- 
ters which  throughout  his  life  called  forth  enthu- 
siasm because  of  their  variety  and  humanity. 
At  Covent  Garden,  on  October  7,  1825,  Power  played 
Rolando  in  "The  Honeymoon,"  and  there  followed, 
among  other  parts.  Trip  in  "The  School  for  Scandal," 
Rashleigh  Osbaldistone  in  "Rob  Roy,"  and  Roches- 
ter in  "Charles  11."  In  the  company  was  Charles 
288 


Conner,  who  had  a  monopoly  of  Irish  parts;  Power    '^h^ 
could  not  ask  for  one  role  of  the  kind  so  long  as  he    t^f%\Ytt^rci 
was  there.  But  Conner  could  not  sing,  and  Power,    iP*^**f^^9 
however  small  the  compass  of  his  voice,  could.  At 
Conner's  death.  Power  succeeded  him. 

"Hitherto,"  wrote  Calcraft,  "the  Irishman  in  a  comedy 
or  farce  had  been  a  feature,  and  a  very  amusing  one, 
thrown  in  to  relieve,  rather  than  a  central  pivot,  on 
which  the  entire  action  revolved.  The  new  actor  in- 
troduced a  new  school,  founded  on  his  own  physical 
energy  and  inexhaustible  spirits," 

Now  began  the  creation  of  roles,  bom  of  Power's  un- 
limited supply  of  wit  and  healthy  spirits.  There  were 
Sergeant  Milligan  in  "Returned  Killed,"  O'Shaugh- 
nessy  in  "One  Hundred  Pound  Note,"  Phelim 
O'Scudd  in  "Peter  Wilkins,"  Sir  Lucius  O'Trigger  in 
"The  Rivals,"  and  Dr.  O'Toole  in  "The  Irish  Tutor." 
He  was  warmly  greeted  by  every  one,  and  the  man- 
agement seemed  satisfied.  In  one  particular,  how- 
ever, they  were  anxious.  Power  was  noted  for  being 
a  fast  dresser ;  on  that  account  he  never  reached  the 
theatre  until  just  the  moment  before  curtain  time. 
"Mr.  Power,  Mr.  Power!"  the  call-boy  would  cry 
frantically ;  leisurely  the  comedian  would  button  the 
last  button  as  he  was  about  to  walk  on  the  stage. 
Once  he  arrived  too  late  for  an  entire  scene ;  his  en- 
trance had  to  be  judiciously  cut,  the  plot  proceeding 
without  him  until  the  act  was  nearly  over. 
In  June,  1829,  Power  turned  from  Covent  Garden 
and  went  on  the  road.  Critics  liked  his  Sir  Lucius  and 
his  O'Toole;  in  the  latter  he  sang  "The  Groves  of 
Blarney,"  which  pleased  the  popular  fancy.  During 
his  first  Irish  engagement  at  the  Dublin  Theatre 
Royal,  under  Bunn,  Power  had  to  contend  with  Bar- 
ry, an  estabUshed  favorite,  so  he  found  the  papers 
looking  askance,  though  closely,  at  all  he  did,  sup- 
ported as  he  was  by  Madame  Vestris.  Besides  some  of 

289 


(^l)C  the  parts  already  mentioned,  he  was  seen  as  Dennis 

liNrt^«<*r<i  Brulgruddery  in  "John  Bull,"  Murtoch  Delany  in 
4JOIUCI3  <»An  Irishman  in  London,"  and  O'Blamey  in  "Both- 
eration." Said  one  paper,  he  lacks  archness;  "his 
low  characters  he  makes  genteel,  and  his  genteel 
ones  vulgar,"  yet — he  has  capabilities.  Said  another, 
to  see  him  is  to  have  enjoyment ;  he  brings  back  the 
days  of  Jack  Johnstone.  His  Irishmen  are  all  Lon- 
doners, declared  one.  They  are  out  and  out  Irish, 
claimed  another.  Talfourd's  criticial  comment  is 
concise : 

This  actor,  if  not  the  richest,  is  to  my  taste,  the  most 
agreeable  of  stage  Irishmen.  He  does  not  surfeit  us  with 
a  musical  brogue  as  Johnstone  did,  but  buzzes  about  the 
verge  of  vulgarity,  and  skims  the  surface  of  impudence 
with  a  light  wing  and  a  decent  consideration  for  fas- 
tidious nerves. 

In  this  atmosphere  Power  thrived ;  he  was  not  ripe  in 
his  methods,  but  he  won  rapidly,  coming  to  be  re- 
garded as  the  national  actor.  Cork  welcomed  him, 
and  he,  a  favorite  with  every  one,  was  dined  and  feted, 
sought  and  courted,  all  of  which  he  liked.  Simple  of 
heart,  yet  somewhere  there  lurked  in  Tyrone  Power 
a  fondness  for  high  degree. 

About  this  time  we  find  mention  of  his  literary  am- 
bitions in  a  letter : 

"Here  I  am  at  Cambridge,"  he  wrote,  "and  I  assure  you 
a  pretty  place  it  is,  with  its  monastic-looking  domuses 
— antiqua  et  religiosa,  as  the  learned  have  it.  I've  been 
wandering  about  these  old  trees,  dreaming  of  Milton, 
Cromwell,  Cranmer,  Gray,  and  my  friend  John  Clarke's 
papa,  mixing  them  up  with  their  several  attributes — 
poetry,  regicide,  heresy,  travels,  etc.,  etc.  ...  I  am 
going  from  here  into  Norfolk  and  Suffolk  to  shoot  at 
the  birds  for  a  few  days,  and  then  take  a  run  over  to 
the  Netherlands  on  purpose  to  look  over  some  ground 
I  am  writing  about." 

Mention  has  already  been  made  of  Power's  aptness  in 
inventing  rhymes ;  besides,  during  his  early  years,  in- 
290 


deed  throughout  his  life,  he  was  ever  jotting  down  ^hf 
his  impressions  of  people  and  places.  His  name  ap-  ff.  \  ^ 
peared  in  annuals  and  magazines,  and  in  1829  he  f^OuJCt^ 
published  two  novels  in  one  volume.  They  were 
called  "The  Lost  Heir"  and  "The  Prediction."  He 
was  at  work  on  "The  King's  Secret"  when  he  felt  it 
necessary  to  travel.  And  if  he  had  to  look  over  the 
ground,  he  gained  in  addition  an  unexpected  quota 
of  romantic  atmosphere,  for,  reaching  Brussels,  he 
found  himself  in  the  ferment  of  a  revolution.  He  was 
nearly  shot  one  day  while  standing  in  a  drawing- 
room;  he  was  also  forced  to  attempt  countless  es- 
capes, one  in  a  butcher's  wagon,  the  cockades  of 
both  sides  within  easy  reach,  should  he  require 
either;  and  when  he  finally  secured  a  boat,  and  had 
pulled  out  midstream,  he  became  an  inviting  target 
for  the  guards.  But  despite  this,  Power's  pen  was 
active,  furnishing  accounts  of  the  turmoil  to  the 
London  "Standard."  That  he  prided  himself  upon 
the  rapidity  with  which  his  pen  flowed  is  seen  by  the 
anecdote  preserved  by  Calcraft : 

"Fred,"  he  [Power]  said  to  one  of  his  sons,  'T  will 
wager  you  a  sovereign,  and  lend  you  the  money  to  pay 
it,  if  you  lose,  that  what  I  write  to-night,  you  will  take 
double  the  time  to  copy  to-morrow." 

The  sequel  was  that  in  one  sitting.  Power  constructed 
the  whole  of  his  farce  "How  to  Pay  the  Rent." 
The  actor  was  back  at  Covent  Garden  during  1830- 
31,  playing  Pat  Rooney  in  "The  Omnibus";  he  was 
zealous  about  acting  bona  fide  parts,  but  when  it 
came  to  making  a  character  buffoon  of  himself,  he 
rebelled.  This  he  did  during  preparations  for  a  ridic- 
ulous piece  called  "Harlequin  Pat  and  Harlequin 
Bat,"  and  for  his  peremptory  decision  to  decline  the 
part  handed  him,  he  was  rewarded  with  a  gold  snuff- 
box presented  by  Charles  Kemble.  On  the  evening  of 
February  2,  1831,  he  took  the  role  of  Colonel  O'Dil- 

291 


{The  Ion  in  his  own  "Married  Lovers,"  and  soon   after 

left  for  Dublin,  where  he  found  his  favor  very  much 

POtDCtjEJ  in  the  ascendency.  His  business  foresight  and  sagac- 
ity were  pronounced  in  all  his  dealings,  and  his 
desires  were  usually  carried,  because  of  his  good- 
natured  way  of  stating  terms.  This  was  evident  in  his 
conversation  as  well  as  in  his  letters.  He  wrote : 

4,  Albion  Street,  Hyde  Park 

My  dear  C ,  Saturday,  May  5,  1832. 

You  are  turning  screw,  you  wretch.  I  am  obliged  to 
make  a  worse  engagement  with  you  than  with  any 
other  villain  of  a  manager.  You  say  I  shall  get  £250. 
Now  I  will  accept  the  terms  you  offer,  viz.,  for  twelve 
nights  from  the  i8th  of  June,  etc.,  >Cioo  and  a  half 
benefit.  But  as  a  sine  qua  non,  you  must  insure  me 
another  hundred  at  this  said  benefit.  Of  course  you  will, 
with  many  thanks  for  my  unprecedented  liberality,  and 
a  supplementary  piece  of  plate  to  crown  the  whole.  You 
will  also  wonder  that  I  ask  so  little,  considering  what 
you  "pay  to  others,  whose  tails  I  sometimes  hold  up 
when  the  joints  are  broken  and  they  are  trailing  in  the 
mud."  "Comparisons  are  odious,"  so  I  say  no  more. 
This  is  my  ultimatum,  and  without  this  I  won't  budge, 
because  a  benefit  is  always  liable  to  some  slip,  although 
I  fancy  in  Dublin  1  am  pretty  safe.  I  conclude  I  have  al- 
ready received  your  reply  in  the  aflirmative,  so  I  have 
booked  the  contract  and  you  may  expect  me  on  Monday, 
the  1 8th  of  June.  There's  a  day  to  begin  an  engage- 
ment, you  rusty  old  musquet  that  you  are !  Which  of  us 
thought  of  it  first?  Hurra !  for  Wellington  and  Water- 
loo! and  d — n  the  Mounseers,  as  Goldfinch  says.  I  will 
send  you  a  couple  of  pieces  to  get  your  ragamuffins 
perfect  in,  which  you  wont,  or  rather  they  wont.  I 
think  these  novelties  will  do  us  some  good.  One,  "The 
Irish  Ambassador,"  of  which  you  may  have  read  some- 
thing, only  you  never  read,  that  is,  you  never  read  any- 
thing to  your  advantage  except  my  letters.  I  never  read 
yours  because  they  are  illegible.  (This  is  a  parenthesis.) 
The  other,  an  alteration  from  the  "London  Hermit,"  a 
sort  of  second  "Etiquette." 

Yours  ever,  T.  Power. 

While  at  Drury  Lane,  in  the  winter  of  1832,  he  played 
"The  Nervous  Man  and  the  Man  of  Nerve,"  besides 
292 


mounting  his  own  "St.  Patrick's  Eve,  or  the  Order  of    '^h^ 
the  Day."  He  next  went  to  Covent.  lAnVnr»rd 

Across  the  seas,  people  were  hearing  of  Tyrone  ^^OiDCVp 
Power,  and  in  the  person  of  Stephen  Price,  proprietor 
of  the  Park  Theatre,  were  urging  him  to  turn  toward 
America.  He  had  too  much  of  the  adventurous  in 
him  to  decline;  even  though  he  would  relinquish  a 
certainty  thereby,  he  builded  in  his  mind  the  possi- 
bility of  reaUzing  a  lump  simi.  This  dream  consum- 
mated, he  would  retire  and  devote  his  time  to  writ- 
ing. 

So,  after  several  short  trips  to  Dublin,  and  a  benefit 
on  June  15,  1833,  he  sailed  from  Liverpool  (July  16) 
on  the  packet-ship  "Europe."  How  he  was  received 
had  better  be  left  until  we  discuss  his  "Impressions," 
which  he  wrote  in  1836.  Suflfice  it  to  say  that  he 
travelled  throughout  the  States  and  Canada,  during  a 
period  when  travelling  was  by  no  means  made  com- 
fortable. He  was  the  popular  actor,  the  companion- 
able friend,  the  close  observer,  and  his  Irish  comedy 
helped  to  double  his  income.  Wemyss  remembered 
his  laughing  eyes,  his  quicksilver  talent  which  over- 
flowed in  rollicking  fun.  Every  one  knew  him  to  be 
generous,  and  charitable  in  a  modest  way.  "Paddy" 
Power,  he  was  called  behind  the  curtain. 
When  he  sailed  for  Liverpool  on  June  21,  1835,  it  was 
with  great  regret;  true  to  the  sentiment  in  him  he 
wrote  an  "Adieu!"  as  the  packet-ship  "Algonquin" 
glided  into  the  ocean. 

Adieu,  Columbia!  I  have  mark'd  thee  well. 

Nor  yet  forever  do  I  leave  thee  now; 
And  busy  thoughts  of  thee  my  bosom  swell, 

And  thronging  recoUections  load  my  brow. 

So   began  the  verses,  and  in  this  manner  they 
ended: 

Yet  shame  I  not  to  bear  an  o'er  full  heart, 
Nor  blush  to  turn  behind  my  tearful  eyes; 

293 


p^otucrjs 


^Ji^  'Tis  from  no  stranger  land  I  now  depart, 

'  'Tis  to  no  strangers  I  devote  these  sighs. 

Welcome  and  home  were  mine  within  the  land 

Whose  sons  I  leave,  whose  fading  shores  I  see; 
And  cold  must  be  mine  eyes,  and  heart,  and  hand, 
When,  fair  Columbia!  they  turn  cold  to  thee. 

Such  expressions,  together  with  the  fact  that  no  word 
of  censure  was  ever  uttered  against  the  great  Re- 
pubUc,  point  to  his  thorough  sympathy  with  the  ideals 
of  a  young  nation.  He  was  true  to  his  word  about 
returning. 

When  he  reached  Liverpool,  he  found  his  friend  Cal- 
craft  manager  in  Dublin,  where  the  British  Associa- 
tion for  the  Advancement  of  Science  was  meeting. 
These  worthy  gentlemen  must  be  offered  the  best 
amusement,  so  Macready,  Ellen  Tree,  and  Power 
were  brought  together,  the  latter's  family  in  the 
meantime  residing  at  Tunbridge,  where  two  sons 
were  attending  a  collegiate  school.  One  evening 
Tom  Moore  was  at  the  theatre  and  saw  Power; 
whether  as  Captain  O'Cutter  in  "The  Jealous  Wife" 
and  Paudeen  O'Rafferty  in  "Bom  to  Good  Luck,"  is 
not  stated ;  perhaps  it  was  on  that  occasion  when, 
after  repeated  calls,  the  curtain  descended  suddenly, 
leaving  Power  alone  before  the  lights.  Quickly  grasp- 
ing the  fact  that  he  had  been  cut  off  thus  precipitately 
from  escape,  Power  improved  the  moment  by  making 
an  impromptu,  but  cleverly  concocted,  speech. 
The  criticism  that  he  was  as  agreeable  and  as  gen- 
tlemanly a  convivialist  as  ever  trod  the  boards  was 
provoked  by  his  inimitable  performance  of  the  drunk- 
en scenes  in  Mrs.  Gore's  "King  O'Neill,"  given  at 
Covent  Garden  on  December  9,  1835,  at  which  time 
Power  was  receiving  a  salary  of  large  compass.  An- 
other drunken  part  was  that  in  his  own  extrava- 
ganza, "O'Flanagan  and  the  Fairies ;  or,  a  Midsum- 
mer Night's  Dream — Not  Shakespeare's,"  presented 
on  April  26,  1836. 
294 


HAROLD    POWER 


This  season  found  him  in  Dublin  twice,  where  he    'SThr 
gave  his  old  repertoire,  together  with  his  own  original    -*is!^VMftv«^ 
interlude  "Paddy  Carey,  the  Boy  of  Clogheen."  In    pOlUtl^ 
his  diary  we  find  an  entry  under  date,  January  24, 
1836: 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  Murray,  and  Macdonald  dined  with 
me  at  Gresham's.  At  ten,  Frank  Sheridan  [grandson 
of  Richard]  joined  us,  and  we  went  to  Lady  Clarke's, 
where  we  had  two  Polish  princes.  Closed  the  evening  by 
dancing  a  jig  with  Lady  Morgan,  which  she  performed 
with  iiSnite  spirit. 

In  the  face  of  all  this  prosperity,  a  prosperity  which 
Power  continually  contrasted  with  the  time  when 
he  could  boast  of  a  yearly  stipend  of  ;,^5o  only,  the 
actor  again  avowed  his  intention  of  retiring.  But  as 
if  fate  were  against  it,  another  invitation  came  from 
across  the  ocean,  and  again  he  visited  America.  It 
was  during  this  trip,  in  March,  1837,  that,  while 
horseback  riding,  he  was  thrown  and  broke  his  col- 
lar bone. 

In  the  summer  of  that  year  he  went  to  the  Haymarket 
for  the  first  time,  from  there  going  to  the  Adelphi, 
where,  at  a  weekly  and  unprecedented  salary  of  £"120, 
he  performed,  on  October  3,  1837,  in  Lover's  "Rory 
O'More."  Then  he  proceeded  to  Dublin  where  his 
public  was  in  anything  but  a  friendly  mood,  because 
on  his  last  visit  he  had  refused  to  respond  to  a  vo- 
ciferous demand  on  their  part  for  him  to  sing  the 
"Groves  of  Blarney." 

Another  flying  trip  was  made  to  America  on  July  21, 
1838,  after  some  minor  engagements;  once  over 
there,  he  remained  but  three  months,  netting  about 
;;<;3,5oo  for  sixty-eight  performances. 
Almost  immediately  he  was  back,  playing  at  the 
Haymarket,  where  he  stayed  most  of  his  time  from 
the  latter  part  of  1838  until  his  fourth  and  final  cross- 
ing of  the  ocean.  He  was  adding  many  Irish  pieces 

295 


■nriir  to  his  repertoire,  realizing  tliat  the  field  was  his  own; 

no  one,  not  even  our  own  John  Drew,  was  able  to  be 

POlOCtjS  as  faithful  to  the  Irish  nature.  Said  one  critic  :  "His 
merry  glance  and  joyous  laugh  were  sovereign  spe- 
cifics against  care  and  melancholy."  "The  Irish 
Lion,"  "The  Irish  Attorney,"  "His  Last  Legs,"  which 
James  H.  Hackett  played  with  considerable  success, 
and  "Confounded  Foreigners"  were  among  the  dra- 
mas he  presented. 

Power  made  an  assertion  now  that  he  would  never 
again  go  to  America ;  but  affairs  took  an  unexpected 
turn.  With  his  wealth  earned  in  the  States,  he  had 
accumulated  investments  in  Texas,  besides  reserving 
large  sums  of  money  in  the  United  States  banks. 
These  details  intervened,  and  made  it  absolutely 
essential  for  him  to  see  about  them.  Back  and  forth 
between  Dublin  and  the  Ha)rmarket  he  went,  and 
on  one  of  these  trips  he  was  taken  to  look  over  the 
vessel  upon  which  he  was  to  meet  his  death.  He  and 
Calcraft,  together,  examined  the  "President,"  which 
had  just  come  into  port. 

On  June  20,  1840,  Power  made  his  final  appearance 
at  Dublin,  and  on  August  i,  1840,  with  Macready 
and  Webster,  he  gave  his  farewell  at  the  Haymarket, 
Colman's  "Jealous  Wife,"  together  with  "The  Irish 
Ambassador,"  and  "The  Irish  Lion"  comprised  the 
bill. 

On  November  2,  1840,  we  find  Power  in  New  York 
and  writing  to  Calcraft  in  his  usual  vein,  a  free  and 
easy  style,  coupled  with  a  discerning  grasp  of  things : 

The  Presidential  election  going  on  full  swing.  An  Eng- 
lish and  an  Irish  election,  to  boot,  are  milk  and  water 
compared  with  the  excitement  of  a  Yankee  one.  The 
present  dynasty  will  be  turned  out  and  no  mistake. 

There  was  but  little  delay  in  settling  his  business; 
what  seems  to  have  detained  him  were  social  duties. 
Had  it  not  been  for  his  strong  desire  to  return  to 
296 


England  with   Lord   Frederick   Lennox,    he   might    -^Jj/v 
have  been  saved  from  the  fate  of  all  on  board  the     r^  -^ 
"President."  But  that  was  not  to  be.  The  ship  pulled    4^0 tUCt^ 
in  anchor  on  March  ii,  1841,  and  that  was  the  last 
seen  of  her  or  her  passengers  by  those  ashore.  A  ter- 
rific tempest  ground  her  to  pieces  on  Sunday,  March 
14th;   shortly  before,   she   had  been   sighted  by  a 
passing  ship.   Niblo,  proprietor   of    the   New  York 
Garden,  was  to  have  sailed  on  the  "President,"  but 
for  some  imaccountable  reason  changed  his  mind. 
People  said,  in  a  superstitious  vein,  that  he  had  pre- 
monitions of  danger. 

Power  was  announced  to  appear  at  the  Haymarket 
on  April  12,  1841 ;  time  passed  and  all  were  hoping 
against  hope.  Webster  was  positive  that  the  ship 
had  put  back  to  New  York ;  the  Power  family  sought 
J.  W.  Wallack,  as  stated  before,  to  get  his  opinion, 
as  he  had  crossed  and  recrossed  the  water  in  all  sorts 
of  weather.  But  the  end  had  in  truth  arrived,  and 
Power  was  no  more ;  as  papers  put  it :  "America  had 
lost  her  'President,'  and  England  her  Power." 
Calcraf t  conjures  his  person  up  for  us : 

Power  was  about  five  feet  eight  inches  in  height,  with 
a  light  complexion,  blue  eyes,  and  brown  hair;  his  form 
compact,  light,  and  agile ;  his  face  intelligent,  animated, 
and  expressive.  Although  the  richest  humour  sparkled  in 
his  eye  and  fell  from  his  lips  without  effort,  he  could 
embody  either  pathos  or  strong  passion  with  adequate 
intensity  when  required. 

Power  seemed  to  have  had  a  very  deeply  serious 
side  to  his  nature ;  so  it  is  with  comedians  of  the  first 
order.  He  was  not  self-conscious;  on  the  other  hand 
he  was  thoroughly  unaffected.  Many  times  called 
upon  to  "speechify,"  as  he  expressed  it,  he  would  do 
so  with  proper  spirit  and  with  equal  decorum.  He  had 
profound  reverence  for  all  things  sacred  and  holy; 
he  was  romantic,  and  scrupulous  in  his  dealings  with 

297 


€}^t 


men.  Though  he  possessed  a  business  eye  and  de- 
manded large  salaries,  he  gave  unstintingly  of  the 
IDOlDCtjS  best  in  him.  He  also  had  a  literary  conscience, 
whether  he  were  writing  verses  for  himself  to  sing, 
or  odes,  or  stories.  In  1839  his  diary  ran : 

Bentley  came  in  to-day  with  a  work  as  promised; 
wishes  me  to  do  something  for  him.  But  what  can  I  do, 
worn  as  I  am  by  six  days'  acting  in  every  week?  I  will 
not  give  the  public  the  lees  of  my  mother-wit,  such  as  it 
is,  but  wait  till  I  can  devote  my  mind  to  one  thing,  and 
fairly  test  my  strength.  A  man  wants  me  to  become 
editor  of  a  magazine.  Heaven  help  him!  he  little  knows 
my  habits. 

By  far  the  most  important  piece  of  literary  work 
done  by  Power  was  his  "Impressions  of  America," 
gathered  into  two  volumes  of  rare  value,  and  pub- 
lished in  1836.  One  who  reads  them  obtains  an  un- 
prejudiced, lucid  view  of  the  state  of  this  country 
during  1833,  1834,  and  1835.  There  are  many  diaries, 
experiences,  records,  preserved  of  these  days,  and 
they  all  present  a  personal  view  of  things,  colored  by 
the  importance  of  the  writer  and  the  impression  he  is 
making  at  the  time.  But  with  Power  this  was  differ- 
ent. Though  we  have  a  continued  glimpse  of  the  man 
himself,  his  childlike  enjoyment,  his  love  of  a  story, 
his  eye  for  the  picturesque,  his  taste  for  the  com- 
forts of  life,  yet  he  came  to  America  determined  to 
see  the  best  in  us,  to  describe  us  as  one  interested 
in  our  welfare.  Those  who  have  read  the  bellicose, 
though  none  the  less  interesting  accounts  of  England 
and  of  the  United  States,  written  by  James  Feni- 
more  Cooper,  will  be  able  to  contrast  this  difference 
in  attitude;  one  raised  a  whirlwind  of  resentment 
from  his  own  countr3maen ;  the  other,  an  Irishman, 
took  back  with  him  the  deep  respect  of  those  he 
had  left. 

"I  seek  to  describe  America  as  I  saw  it,"  so  he  began  .  .  . 
"I  seek  to  describe  its  people  as  I  saw  them, — clear- 
headed, energetic,  frank,  and  hospitable.  .  .  ." 

298 


Once  in  New  York  he  was  ready  for  everything;  he     'OTTjf 
stayed  at  the  City  Hotel,  and  would  drive  up  Broad-  " 

way  of  an  afternoon,  noting  the  loungers  in  chairs     |^O\X)0f |S( 
on  the  sidewalks.  In  the  cool  of  the  evening  he  would 
go  to  Cato's,  four  miles  from  the  City  Hall,  driving 
along  the  North  Avenue. 

The  night  of  his  debut  he  was  doubtful  and  ner- 
vous, but  when  it  was  all  over,  when  the  Americans 
had  laughed  to  their  hearts'  content  over  his  "Irish 
Ambassador"  and  "Teddy,  the  Tiler,"  he  thought  of 
his  audience — the  men  in  abundance,  and  he  re- 
gretted the  absence  of  the  ladies,  whose  fair  forms 
and  gleaming  shoulders  he  was  always  quick  to 
comment  upon.  But  to  his  evident  approval  he  said : 
"I  saw  no  coats  off,  no  heels  up,  no  legs  over  boxes" ; 
this  he  had  been  led  to  expect.  And  further,  he  was 
fairly  well  pleased  with  the  Park  Theatre,  where 
Placide  won  his  regard. 

He  left  for  Philadelphia  by  way  of  the  Camden  and 
Amboy  boat  and  railroad,  gliding  by  "the  village  of 
Hoboken  famous  for  turtle  and  pistol-matches," 
noting  the  beauty  of  the  "Palisadoes,"  travelling 
eight  miles  an  hour,  until  finally  he  reached  Head's 
Mansion  House  in  the  Quaker  city,  where  the  "mos- 
chetos"  nearly  devoured  him.  Even  then  the  noise  of 
New  York  impressed  travellers;  even  then,  to  enjoy 
nature,  one  had  to  go  av/ay  from  Broadway.  Power's 
minute  eye  for  woods  and  stream  is  to  be  remarked 
in  all  his  descriptions. 

Again  was  he  struck  by  the  utter  falsity  of  the  Eng- 
lish idea  that  Americans  were  insensible  to  art,  were 
undemonstrative.  Those  at  the  Walnut  gave  him  a 
rousing  welcome. 

Back  in  New  York  once  more,  Power  set  sail  for 
Boston,  in  a  vessel  filled  with  a  variety  of  folk  from 
all  parts  of  the  country.  Here  he  was  thoroughly  im- 
pressed by  the  democracy  of  the  land,  for  when  he 
went  to  the  saloon  for  dinner,  to  his  left  was  a  very 

209 


(Jih^  delightful  woman,  while  to  his  right  "sat  a  man 

^       who,    although  decently  dressed,   was  evidently  a 

|t>0\UCVj5  working  operative  of  the  humblest  class;  yet  was 
there  nothing  in  either  his  manner  or  appearance  to 
annoy  the  most  refined  female." 
Reaching  Boston  in  a  roundabout  manner,  by  coach 
and  boat,  Power  was  delighted  with  the  city's  Eng- 
lish appearance ;  and  here  for  the  first  time  he  mar- 
velled at  the  ice,  the  "congealed  water"  put  into  his 
glass.  Stopping  at  the  Tremont  Hotel,  he  was  still 
more  impressed  by  the  manner  Americans  were 
maligned  abroad.  "As  to  the  indecent  pushing  and 
driving,"  he  wrote,  "so  amusingly  described  by 
some  travellers,  I  never  saw  a  symptom  of  it  in  any 
hotel  I  visited  throughout  the  country." 
When  he  went  back  to  New  York  he  entered  the 
thick  of  racing,  and  won  dozens  of  pairs  of  kid  gloves. 
Then  he  rushed  to  Baltimore,  via  Philadelphia,  and 
found  himself  in  the  midst  of  his  first  railroad  acci- 
dent, the  "loco-motive"  going  at  the  rate  of  twenty 
miles  an  hour.  He  played  at  the  Front  Street  Theatre, 
his  opponents  being  the  Kembles,  who  were  at  the 
Holiday.  In  the  former  the  clientele  were  sturdy 
Americans,  while  in  the  latter  the  aristocracy  of  the 
town  always  gathered.  "The  people  are  with  us," 
Power  exclaimed,  but  a  later  entry  indicated  that  a 
narrow  selvage  of  spectators  was  to  be  seen  around 
the  vast  area  of  an  empty  parterre. 
After  a  time  we  find  Power  on  his  way  to  Washing- 
ton by  stage,  where  a  Mr.  Tolly  managed  "the 
leather"  so  excellently  that  he  could  get  them  out 
of  the  deepest  rut  by  the  roadway  without  upsetting 
them.  This  was  fortunate,  for,  as  they  neared  the 
nation's  capital,  they  could  see  wrecks  of  aban- 
doned coaches  scattered  along  the  trail. 
Once  in  Washington,  he  entered  the  whirl  of  gayety. 
Playing  at  a  miserable  theatre,  with  a  miserable 
company,  yet  during  this  February,  1834,  he  was 
300 


TyRONE   POWER,    2d. 


greeted  with  favor.  For  the  first  time  he  mentioned     ^h0 
Hill  and  Hackett,  who  were  the  rival  Yankees  of  the    ^ 
stage.  PO^JOm 

With  friends,  he  went  to  a  ball  where  he  became  a 
gallant  praiser  of  the  American  girl : 

"She  excels  in  the  dance,"  he  commented,  "and  one 
sees  that  she  enjoys  it  with  all  her  heart.  In  England  I 
have  rarely  felt  moved  to  dance;  on  the  other  hand,  in 
France  and  America,  so  electric  is  evident  unre- 
strained enjoyment,  I  have  found  it  sometimes  difficult 
to  repress  the  inclination  within  becoming  bounds." 

Visiting  a  new  city,  Power  was  what  is  commonly 
called  a  prowler,  an  explorer ;  he  scoured  the  environs 
at  all  times,  day  and  night,  his  favorite  hour  being 
just  at  twilight,  when  he  would  hunt  out  the  highest 
point  of  vantage  and  stand  there  looking  down  upon 
city  or  village.  In  the  Senate  he  had  heard  Webster, 
one  of  the  oratorical  thunderers;  evidently  also,  he 
was  introduced  into  political  life.  One  evening  on  his 
way  to  dine  with  the  Senator  from  New  Jersey,  he  lost 
his  bearing  and  stopped  a  stranger  to  ask  guidance. 
Thus,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  latter,  who  recog- 
nized the  actor  as  Power,  Henry  Clay  held  out  his 
hand  in  cordial  greeting,  and  the  two  thereupon  be- 
came acquainted. 

Power  literally  toured  the  whole  of  New  York  State ; 
he  saw  everything  and  everybody;  he  went  into  the 
wilderness,  he  visited  the  Indians,  he  was  swayed 
by  the  magic  grandeur  of  Niagara,  he  hunted  out 
historical  illusions;  he  studied  the  country  people 
and  the  city  people.  He  played  and  rested,  he  rested 
and  played.  No  traveller,  v»7ho  was  sent  hither  and 
thither  professionally,  ever  retained  the  exuberance 
and  freshness  of  observation  so  well  as  he. 
The  second  volume  of  his  "Impressions"  is  devoted 
mostly  to  his  Southern  experiences,  beginning  at 
Petersburg,  Virginia,  and  proceeding  from  Charles- 

301 


^h^  ton  to  Macon,  thence  to  Columbus,  Georgia;  then  by 

wretched   roads,   passing   Creek   Indians  and   wild 

4DO  iDCtjo  wastes  of  land,  upon  which  he  noted  the  conditions 
of  the  negro,  and  of  the  reduced  gentry  of  the  plan- 
tations, to  Montgomery,  Alabama.  From  Mont- 
gomery, he  steamed  down  the  Alabama  River  to 
Mobile,  then  turned  to  New  Orleans,  where  he  com- 
mented upon  the  gambling  hells  that  ran  in  competi- 
tion with  the  French  Theatre. 

What  he  had  to  undergo  in  the  poor  places  called 
theatres  is  best  gleaned  from  his  picturesque  ex- 
perience in  Natchez.  He  wrote  : 

Dined  early,  and  about  six  walked  out  of  town  to  the 
theatre,  preparatory  to  making  my  bow.  The  way  was 
without  a  single  passenger,  and  not  a  creature  lingered 
about  the  outer  doors  of  the  house :  the  interior  I  found 
in  the  possession  of  a  single  lamplighter,  who  was  lei- 
surely setting  about  his  duties;  of  him  I  inquired  the 
hour  of  beginning,  and  learnt  that  it  was  usual  to  com- 
mence about  seven  or  eight  o'clock — a  tolerable  lati- 
tude ;  time  was  thus  afforded  me  for  a  ramble,  and  out  I 
sallied,  taking  the  direction  leading  from  the  town.  I 
had  not  proceeded  far  when  I  met  several  men  riding 
together;  a  little  farther  on  another  group,  with  a  few 
ladies  in  company,  passed  leisurely  by,  all  capitally 
mounted:  others,  I  perceived,  were  fast  approaching 
from  the  same  direction.  It  now  occurred  to  me  that 
these  were  the  persons  destined  to  form  the  country 
quota  of  my  auditory :  upon  looking  back,  my  impres- 
sion was  confirmed  by  seeing  them  all  halting  in  front 
of  the  rural  theatre,  and  fastening  their  horses  to  the 
neighbouring  rails  and  trees. 

I  now  hastened  back  to  take  a  survey  of  the  scene,  and 
a  very  curious  one  it  was :  a  number  of  carriages  were 
by  this  time  arriving  from  the  town,  together  with  long 
lines  of  pedestrians;  the  centre  of  the  wide  road  was, 
however,  prominently  occupied  by  the  horsemen;  some, 
dismounted,  abided  here  the  coming  of  their  friends, 
or  exchanged  greetings  with  such  of  these  as  had  ar- 
rived but  were  yet  in  their  stirrups,  and  a  finer  set  of 
men  I  have  rarely  looked  upon;  the  general  effect  of 
their  costume,  too,  was  picturesque  and  border-like: 
they  were  mostly  clad  in  a  sort  of  tunic  or  frock,  made 

302 


of  white  or  of  grass-green  blanketing,  the  broad  dark- 
blue  selvage  serving  as  a  binding,  the  coat  being  fur- 
nished with  collar,  shoulder-pieces,  and  cuflfs  of  the 
same  colour,  and  having  a  broad  belt,  either  of  leather 
or  of  the  like  selvage;  broad-leafed  white  Spanish 
hats  of  beaver  were  evidently  the  mode,  together  with 
high  leather  leggings,  or  cavalry  boots  and  heavy 
spurs.  The  appointments  of  the  horses  were  in  perfect 
keeping  with  those  of  these  cavaliers;  they  bore  demi- 
pique  saddles,  with  small  massive  brass  or  plated  stir- 
rups, generally  shabracs  of  bear-  or  deer-skin,  and  in 
many  instances  had  saddle-cloths  of  scarlet  or  Ught 
blue,  bound  with  broad  gold  or  silver  lace. 
The  whole  party  having  come  up,  and  their  horses 
being  hitched  in  front  of  the  building  to  their  satisfac- 
tion, they  walked  leisurely  into  the  theatre,  the  men 
occupying  the  pit:  whilst  in  the  boxes  were  several 
groups  of  pretty  and  well-dressed  women.  The  de- 
meanour of  these  border  gallants  was  as  orderly  as  could 
be  desired ;  and  their  enjoyment,  if  one  might  judge 
from  the  heartiness  of  their  laughter,  exceeding. 
After  the  performance  there  was  a  general  muster  to 
horse;  and  away  they  rode,  in  groups  of  from  ten  to 
twenty,  as  their  way  might  lie  together.  These  were  the 
planters  of  the  neighbouring  country,  many  of  whom 
came  nightly  to  visit  the  theatre,  and  this  from  very 
considerable  distances;  forming  such  an  audience  as 
cannot  be  seen  elsewhere  in  this  hackney-coach  age; 
indeed,  to  look  on  so  many  fine  horses,  with  their  an- 
tique caparisons,  piquetted  about  the  theatre,  re- 
called the  palmy  days  of  the  Globe  and  Bear  Garden. 

And  when  Power  stood  upon  the  deck  of  the  vessel 
taking  him  from  America,  what  were  his  general  im- 
pressions? "After  much  and  close  observation,"  he 
remarks,  "I  say  fearlessly  that,  in  all  conventional 
points,  good  society  in  the  States  is  equal  to  the  best 
provincial  circles  in  England.  .  .  .  The  great  mass 
of  Americans  are  natural,  therefore  rarely  vul- 
gar. ..." 

Such  then  is  the  general  trend  of  Mr.  Power's  book. 
It  is  couched  in  a  quaint  and  simple  style,  and  gives 
an  excellent  view  of  the  unprofessional  man.  His 
avoidance  of  theatrical  subjects,  save  in  a  general 

303 


{^\)C  way,  shows  his  modesty.  There  was  no  condescension 

KN  VMr»»*ri  ^°  *^®  ^^^^  ®^  *^^  foreigner ;  he  was  full  of  enthu- 
|D0  U)Ct9  siasm.  As  a  general  rule,  reminiscences  afford  ample 
means  of  reaching  a  composite  picture  of  past  times. 
The  fascination  of  Fanny  Kemble's  books,  of  Mrs. 
Mowatt's  recollections,  of  Jefferson's  Autobiography, 
lies  in  the  keen  spirit  with  which  all  things  are  noted 
— things  important  and  trivial. 

Power's  advent  to  America  did  much  toward  spur- 
ring our  native  comedians  to  renewed  vigor  and  orig- 
inality. Jefferson  wrote : 

I  am  not  aware  what  effect  Power's  success  as  a  star 
had  upon  the  English  stage, — it  is  more  conservative 
than  our  own, — but  his  achievements  here  stirred  up  a 
new  ambition  among  the  comedians  of  America,  and 
with  national  energy,  they  immediately  set  to  work 
developing  their  especial  gifts;  and  these  in  many  in- 
stances qualified  them  for  becoming  distinct  features. 
Casting  aside  the  old  comedies,  they  came  forward  with 
novel  and  effective,  if  not  legitimate  plays. 

Edward  Stirling  speaks  of  Power's  bashfulness,  of  his 
habit  of  turning  his  face  away  from  the  front;  this 
might  be  believed  if  the  ambitious  Stirling  did  not 
further  relate  that  one  evening,  the  manager  of 
a  rural  company — an  old  lady  of  illiterate  cast — 
shouted:  "Power,  you  shame-faced  lout,  turn  your 
face  to  the  people  that  pay  to  see  it !" 
Of  the  four  sons  left  by  the  actor,  but  two  were 
known  to  the  dramatic  profession.  William,  the  eld- 
est, served  in  China  and  India  and  is  still  alive,  a 
venerable  K.C.B. ;  he  retired  with  the  rank  of  Com- 
missariat-General, and  took  up  his  residence  at  Tun- 
bridge  Wells.  Maurice,  educated  for  the  bar,  went  on 
the  stage  instead,  and  coming  to  America  in  1848 
opened  on  October  30th,  as  Sir  Patrick  O'Plenipo  and 
Teddy,  the  Tiler.  His  week's  engagement  was  not 
favorable,  and  he  returned  to  England,  dying  in 
Bath  on  September  21,  1849. 

304 


Frederick,  the  next  son,  was  a  civil  engineer.  It  was     '^1)C 
Harold  Littledale  Power  whose  life  was  a  varied  one,     l^nYtirt* ^ 
for  though  he  inherited  much  of  his  father's  charm     ^  ^ 

and  ability,  he  only  exercised  it  upon  the  stage  to  a 
limited  degree,  battling  with  the  prejudice  a  public 
often  shows  toward  the  son  of  a  famous  father. 
But  when  he  entered  into  association  with  Edmund 
Yates,  the  journalist  and  novelist,  he  was  warmly 
greeted.  The  two  played  in  London,  their  perform- 
ance being  called  "Mr.  Edmund  Yates's  Invitations 
to  Evening  Parties  and  the  Seaside."  This  was  a 
series  of  amusements :  anecdotes  and  mimicry  inter- 
spersed with  song  and  dance.  Power  was  vivacious; 
he  could  tell  a  good  yam,  he  could  sing  in  high  fal- 
setto, he  could  be  moderate  in  his  inimitable  vaga- 
ries. Yates  liked  him  for  his  excellent  hum-or;  when 
they  met.  Power  had  been  serving  in  the  Post  Office 
under  Anthony  Trollope,  though  Yates  suggests  that, 
at  the  time,  he  had  been  travelling  with  a  company  of 
actors  in  the  provinces. 

Their  association,  however,  was  not  of  long  duration, 
for  a  mercantile  position  was  offered  Power,  which 
he  accepted,  while  Yates,  unwilling  to  seek  another 
colleague,  abandoned  his  idea. 

In  1866  Power  married  Miss  Ethel  Lavenu,  who  sup- 
ported Fechter  when  he  was  playing  at  the  London 
Lyceum  Theatre  in  1863.  She  was  daughter  of  the 
composer,  and  by  her  alliance  gave  to  the  world  two 
actors:  one,  George  Power,  a  comedian  now  playing 
in  London,  and  the  other,  Tyrone  Power,  who,  famil- 
iar to  all  American  theatre-goers,  is  the  direct  de- 
scendant, in  name  and  talent,  of  his  great  ancestor. 
The  present  Tyrone  Power  was  sent  to  this  country 
at  the  early  age  of  seventeen;  not  as  an  actor,  but 
apprenticed  to  a  man  in  Florida,  who  had  agreed  to 
teach  him  orange  culture.  The  boy  experienced  little 
more  than  hardships,  for  his  position  was  that  of  a 
servant,  and  naturally  his  nature  rebelled.   So  he, 

305 


^|l0  with  the  blood  of  his  grandfather  coursing  through 

,^^    .  .his  veins,  packed  up  his  scanty  belongings  and  ran 

|D0  VDCfp  away  to  St.  Augustine — a  third  such  escapade  in  the 
Power  family — where  he  set  about  joining  a  theat- 
rical company  which  cast  him  as  Mr.  Gibson  in 
"The  Private  Secretary."  But  the  venture  failed,  and 
Power  was  out  of  a  job,  penniless  and  alone.  Since  he 
did  not  accede  to  his  father's  wishes,  he  must  shift 
for  himself ;  his  family  had  cut  him  off.  The  boy  was 
going  through  the  sad  trials  of  his  grandfather,  who 
likewise  had  been  discarded  by  his  people.  But  mo- 
mentary darkness  did  not  discourage  him ;  he  plodded 
ahead. 

A  theatrical  advertisement  took  him  to  Philadelphia, 
aided  by  a  friend  who  provided  him  with  funds.  But 
when  he  reached  the  city  he  was  rejected  because  he 
was  too  young.  He  next  found  himself  in  New  York, 
alone  and  friendless.  Now  Power's  experience  was  in 
a  Dime  Museum  on  the  Bowery,  where,  as  he  says, 
"he  shared  honors  with  the  bearded  lady  and  the 
ossified  man." 

Had  he  published  abroad  the  fact  that  he  was  the 
grandson  of  Tyrone  Power,  he  might  have  been 
saved  much  of  this  poverty,  this  degradation  of  his 
art.  But  no,  he  was  determined  to  make  his  way,  and 
his  experience  increased  with  each  slight  rise  from 
obscurity. 

Then  one  day  he  found  himself  engaged  to  play  with 
Madame  Janauschek  in  "Meg  Merrilies";  his  role 
was  Dominie  Sampson, 

After  this  his  way  was  assured.  Ellen  Terry's  influ- 
ence placed  him  with  the  Augustin  Daly  Company, 
where  he  played  Sir  Oliver  Surface  in  "The  School 
for  Scandal,"  Baptista  in  "The  Taming  of  the  Shrew," 
Holofemes  in  "Love's  Labour's  Lost,"  and  Adam  in 
"As  You  Like  It."  The  salary  was  meagre,  and  the 
parts  not  over-rich.  But  he  was  gaining  prestige,  and 
his  roles  soon  ranged  from  Caliban  in  "The  Tem- 
pest," to  Mr.  Posket  in  Pinero's  "The  Magistrate" 
306 


MRS.   TYRONE    POWER 


(1896-97)-  In  the  cast  of  the  latter  play,  Edith  Crane    '^bC 
acted  Charlotte,  a  role  assumed  by  May  Davenport    -^  \_ 
when  in  October,  1885,  it  was  first  given  at  the  Bos-    ^Owttfi 
ton  Museum.  Here  the  company  included  William 
F.  Owen,  John  Mason,  and  William  Seymour. 
His  next  move  was  to  become  playwright,  and  his 
effort,  "The  Texan,"  was  taken  to  London  where  it 
was  played  at  the  Old  Princess  Theatre.  Of  course  it 
failed — that  is  the  fate  of  most  first  attempts  of  this 
kind — but  out  of  it  came  good  results,  for  Power's 
acting  impressed  Beerbohm  Tree,  who  gave  him  an 
engagement,   when   he   appeared   as   the   Ghost  in 
"Hamlet." 

He  was  soon  back  again  in  America  and  at  Daly's, 
but  being  denied  parts  of  any  scope,  he  resigned  and 
joined  Mrs.  Minnie  Maddem  Fiske's  support,  ap- 
pearing as  Von  Kellar  in  "Magda,"  Brigard  in 
"Frou  Frou,"  and  Michele  in  "Little  Italy."  His 
work  was  now  well  recognized,  but  it  was  his  per- 
formance of  Lord  Steyne  in  Langdon  Mitchell's 
"Becky  Sharp"  (September  12,  1899)  that  stamped 
his  art;  his  carefully  and  forcibly  assumed  villany 
was  such  as  to  commend  it  to  all  critics.  He  also  ap- 
peared as  Jim  Dixon  to  Mrs.  Fiske's  Alexandra  Vic- 
toria Bellchamber  in  "A  Bit  of  Old  Chelsea." 
He  now  went  to  Australia,  starring  there  with  Miss 
Edith  Crane,  an  actress  of  great  beauty,  whom  he 
had  married  in  1898.  Their  plays  comprised  "Tess  of 
the  D'Urbervilles,"  and  "The  Only  Way."  Miss 
Crane's  name  has  been  identified  with  the  Daly  Com- 
pany and  with  E.  H.  Sothem,  whose  success  in  "The 
King's  Musketeer"  was  greatly  enhanced  by  her 
spirited  work  as  Miladi.  She  has  also  appeared  on  the 
road  as  "Trilby."  Heretofore  mainly  in  secondary 
support,  Mrs.  Power,  during  the  season  of  1906-7  will 
become  leading  lady  with  her  husband  as  star,  in 
Marie  Corelli's  play  "Barabbas." 
It  was  while  he  was  with  Sir  Henry  Irving  and  Ellen 
Terry,    playing    Bassanio    in     "The    Merchant    of 

307 


^l)C  Venice,"  that  Mrs.  Fiske  called  for  Mr.  Power's  ser- 

j,^^^  ^  ^  vices;  she  was  about  to  present  Winter's  translation 
(l^OlPCrg  of  Heyse's  "Mary  of  Magdala"  (1902),  and  the  role 
of  Judas  needed  just  such  an  actor  as  he.  So  Mr. 
Power  hastened  across  the  ocean,  to  receive  unani- 
mous applause  for  his  characterization,  a  distinctive 
type  of  work  wholly  apart  from  anything  then  done 
by  our  present  generation  of  actors. 
With  a  casual  mention  of  Mr.  Power's  earnest  work 
in  the  American  production  of  Stephen  Phillips's 
"Ulysses"  (1903),  of  his  Ingomar  to  the  Parthenia 
of  Miss  Marlowe ;  of  his  Arkessis  in  Belasco's  "Adrea" 
(1905),  which  cast  included  Mrs.  Power;  of  his  effort 
in  the  Indian  play  "The  Redskin"  (1906)  and  in  "The 
Strength  of  the  Weak,"  we  pass  to  the  dominant  note 
that  stamps  the  actor.  As  Judas,  his  fine  presence,  the 
vigor  of  his  action,  and  his  clear  and  broad  com- 
prehension were  spoken  of.  Because  of  his  physical 
strength  and  his  wonderfully  deep  voice,  he  was  able 
to  depict  the  betrayer  "in  a  way  to  thrill  the  imagina- 
tion, to  arouse  and  sustain  a  shuddering  sympathy, 
and  greatly  to  deepen  the  pathos  of  a  most  pitiful 
experience"  as  suggested  by  Heyse.  His  tragedy  in 
this  drama  was  regarded  by  Winter  as  something  to 
lead  him  toward  the  tragedy  of  a  higher  kind. 
It  is  just  in  this  respect  that  Mr.  Power  must  be  esti- 
mated ;  he  has  acted  in  good  plays,  in  bad  plays ;  he 
has  had  parts  fitted  to  him,  and  those  totally  un- 
suited.  That  is  the  fault  of  the  System.  But  he  has 
earnestness  and  a  rich  variety  of  effect,  for,  as  was 
said  of  Forrest,  there  is  much  in  him  of  animal 
strength  and  of  overwhelming  passion. 
This  is  different  from  the  light  comedy  of  his  grand- 
father, and  the  genial  amusement  of  his  father.  In 
the  Tyrone  Power  of  the  present  generation,  the 
family  has  produced  a  type  of  a  new  order — one  who, 
by  physique  and  nature,  is  more  suited  to  tragedy  of  a 
definite  color  than  drama  of  varied  and  subtle  hues. 
308 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


I— TO-DAY   AND   YESTERDAY 

BOOKS 

A  thorough  history  of  the  theatre  in  America — its  inception, 
its  evolution,  its  management — has  yet  to  be  written. 
The  following  references  will  aid  in  reinforcing  impres- 
sions concerning  the  Drama  of  To-day  and  Yesterday. 
References  in  succeeding  chapters  will  prove  equally  as 
serviceable.     Vide  also  current  theatrical  journals. 

BIBLIOGRAPHIES 

1882     Poole's  Index.     [Seq.] 

1905     Reader's  Guide   to   Periodical   Literature.      (Ciunu- 

lative),  vol.  i,  1900-4.     Ed.  Anna  Lorraine  Guthrie. 

Minneapolis:  H.  W.  Wilson  Co. 
1852     Chronology  of  the   American   Stage  from    1752   to 

1852.  F.  C.  Wemyss.  New  York:  Wm.  Taylor  &  Co. 
1896     English  Drama:  A  Working  Basis.     Katherine  Lee 

Bates.     Wellesley  College. 
1896     The  Magazine  and  the  Drama.     Compiled  by  James 

H.  Pence.      (Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  2.)    [An  ex- 
cellent publication.] 
1900     Bibliography  of  Early  American  Plays,  1714-1830, 

O.  Wegelin.      (Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  10.) 
1900     Later  American   Plays,    1831-1900.      R.  F.  Roden. 

(Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  12.) 

1902  More  Early  Ameiican  Plays.     O.  Wegelin.     Literary 

Collector,   2  :  82-84. 

1903  Contemporary  Biography.     Compiled  by  Agnes  M. 

Elliott.     Carnegie    Library   of   Pittsburg.     [Com- 
mendable bibliography.] 

1904  William   Dunlap   and   His   Writings.     O.    Wegelin. 

Literary  Collector,  7  :  69-76,  January.     [Bibliog., 
70-76.] 

GENERAL  HISTORIES 

History  of  the  American  Theatre.     W.  Dunlap.     London, 

1833  (2  vols.). 
Records  of  the  New  York  Stage  from  1750- 1860.     Joseph 

N.  Ireland.     New  York:  T.  H.  Morrell,  1866   (2  vols.). 

311 


rapl)^ 


"^i^lhltrtrt        History  of  the  New  York  Stage,  from  the  first  performance 
^nuilVI^'  in  1732  to  iQoi.     T.  AUston  Brown.     New  York:  Dodd, 

Mead,  1903  (3  vols.). 

History  of  the  American  Stage,  1733-1870.  T.  AUston 
Brown.    New  York,  1870. 

A  Record  of  the  Albany  Stage,  including  notices  of  prom- 
inent actors  who  have  appeared  in  America.  Henry 
P.  Phelps.     Albany:  J.  McDonough,  1880. 

Record  of  the  Boston  Stage.  William  Warland  Clapp,  Jr. 
Boston  and  Cambridge,  1853. 

History  of  the  Providence  Stage.  1762-1891.  George  O. 
Willard.     Providence:  R.  I.  News  Co.,  1891. 

Drama  in  New  Orleans.  John  Gaisford.  New  Orleans, 
1849. 

History  of  the  London  Stage  and  Its  Famous  Players.  1576- 
1903.  H.  Barton  Baker.  New  York:  Button,  1904. 
[Vide  section  "The  History  of  the  Patent  Theatres."] 

History  of  Drury  Lane.  Edward  Stirling.  London :  Chatto 
&  Windus,  1 881. 

History  of  the  Haymarket.  Cyril  Maude.  New  York: 
Button,  1904. 

History  of  Covent  Garden.  [Just  announced  as  forthcom- 
ing.] Covent  Garden  Theatre,  1732-1897.  H.  S.  Wynd- 
ham. 

BIOGRAPHICAL  DICTIONARIES 

Dictionary  of  National   Biography.      Ed.  Leslie  Stephens 

and  Sidney  Lee.     London:  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.  (63  vols.). 

[The  notices  give  concise  bibliographies.] 
Appleton's    Cyclopaedia    of    American    Biog.      Ed.  James 

Grant  Wilson.     New  York:  Appleton,  1889. 
A  Woman  of  the  Century.     Biography  of  Leading  Women 

of  America.      Ed.  Frances  E.  Willard,  etc.     New  York: 

Moulton,  1893. 
Modern  English  Biography.     Frederic  Boase.     [250  copies], 

1901  (3  vols.). 
National  Cyclopaedia  of  Am.  Biog.     New  York :  James  T. 

White  &  Co.,  1901. 
Lamb's    Biog.    Bict.    U.  S.     Ed.  John    Howard    Brown. 

Boston:  Federal  Bk.  Co.,  1903. 
New     International     Encyclopaedia.     Ed.    Gilman,     Peck, 

Colby.     New  York:  Bodd,  Mead,  1904. 
Who's  Who  in  America.     Chicago:  A.  N.  Marquis  &  Co., 

1906-7. 
Illustrations  of  Actors  found  in  The  American  Shakespeare. 

New  York:  Johnson,  Fry  &  Co.,  1859  [28  pts.]. 
The  Green  Room  Book;   or,   Who's   Who  on  the   Stage. 

1906.     Ed.  Bampton  Hunt.     New  York:  Warne. 

312 


BEGminirGs  m  America 


13iblt05* 


The  Virginia  Comedians;  or  Old  Days  in  the  Old  Dominion 

(novel) .     John  Esten  Cooke.     New  York :  Apple  ton,  1883.     tftp^  V 
[Describes  Colonial  theatre.] 

The  Early  Theatre.     New  York  Times,  December  15,  1895, 

p.  13- 

First  Theatre  in  America:  When  was  the  Drama  First  In- 
troduced in  America?  An  Inquiry,  by  Hon,  Charles  P. 
Daly,  LL.D.      (Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  i,  1896.) 

Washington  and  the  Theatre.  Paul  Leicester  Ford.  (Dun- 
lap  Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  8,  1899.) 

The  Controversy  Between  the  Puritans  and  the  Stage 
(Yale  thesis).  E.  N.  S.  Thompson.  New  York:  Henry 
Holt,  1903.     [Bibliog.,  pp.  267-72.] 

The  Beginning  of  the  Drama  in  America.  O.  Wegelin. 
Literary  Collector,  9  :  177-81,  IQOS-  [To  prove  the 
drama  started  as  early  as  1705,  if  not  earlier — in  1702.] 

REMINISCENCES 

Personal  Recollections  of  the  Drama;  or.  Theatrical  Rem- 
iniscences.    Henry  Dickinson   Stone.     Albany,    1873. 

Retrospections  of  the  Stage.  John  Bernard.  Ed.  W. 
Bayle  Bernard.  Boston,  1832  (2  vols.).  [Ibid.,  Retro- 
spections of  America,  1 797-181 1.  Ed.  Mrs.  B.  Bernard. 
Introduction  and  notes  by  L.  Hutton  and  B.  Matthews. 
Harper,  1887.] 

CRITICAL 

On  Actors  and   the  Art  of  Acting.      G.   H.  Lewes.     New 

York,  1878.     [A    standard  work.] 
About  the  Theatre:  Essays  and  Studies.     William  Archer. 

London:  T.  Fisher  Unwin,  1886. 
The  Drama :  A  Series  of  iissays  on  the  Art  of  Acting.     Henry 

Irving.     New  York:  Tait,  Sons  &  Co.,  1892. 
Renascence  of  the  English  Drama.     Henry  Arthur  Jones. 

New  York:  Macmillan,  1895. 
The   Stage    in   America:     1897-1900.     Norman   Hapgood. 

New  York:  Macmillan,  1901. 
Reminiscences  of  a  Dramatic  Critic.     Henry  Austin  Clapp. 

Boston:    Houghton,    Mifflin,    1902.     [Excellent    chapter 

on  "The  Stage  of  Fifty  Years  Ago."] 

MISCELLANEOUS 

Nights  at  the  Play:  A  View  of  the  English  Stage.  Dutton 
Cook.     London:  Chatto  &  Windus,  1883. 

313 


"i^tljliOQ      Curiosities  of  the  American  Stage.     L.  Hutton.     New  York: 

"  Harper,  1891. 

fSUbl^  Theatrical  Notes.     Joseph  Knight.     London:  Lawrence  & 

•^•r*ft  Bullen,  1893. 

The  Theatre  and  Its  People.     Franklin  Fyles.     New  York: 
Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.,  1900. 


MAGAZINES 
THEATRES 

Athenaeum,  August  11,  1888,  p.  203;    August  25,  1888,  p. 

267.     Actors  and  Managers  under  Queen  Anne.     Geo. 

A.  Aitken. 
Athenaeum,  2:  35,  July  7,  1900.     Garrick  and  Drury  Lane 

in   Garrick's   time.      [Discussing  period  from  1747-76.] 

W.  Roberts. 
Theatre,  New  York,  September,  1902.     One  Hundred  and 

Fifty    Years   of   the   American   Stage.     James   Clarence 

Hyde. 
Theatre,  New  York,  March,  1903.     A.  M.  Palmer  and  the 

Union  Square  Theatre.     A.  E.  Lancaster.     [Vide  E.  A. 

Dithmar's  "Memories  of  Daly's  Theatres."] 
New    England     Magazine,    n.  s.    28:378-96,    June,    1903. 

Passing  of  the  Boston  Museum.     H.  M.  Ticknor.     [Ex- 
cellent.] 
Theatre,  New  York,  December,  1903.     The  Playhouse  One 

Hundred  and  Fifty  Years  Ago.     Aubrey  Lanston. 
Nineteenth  Century,  55:60-68.     January,  1904.     London 

Theatres,  Past  and  Present.     Algernon  West. 

MAJiAGERS  AND  THEIR  VIEWS 

Cosmopolitan,   35:707-13,   October,   1903.     Public  Taste 

and  the  Winter's  Drama.     O.  Hammerstein. 
Cosmopolitan,    38:  15-22,    November,    1904.     Tendencies 

of  the  American  Stage.     Daniel  Frohman. 
Harper's  Weekly,  48:  1844-47,  December  3,  1904.     Three 

Views    of    the    Stage    To-day.     David    Belasco,    Henry 

Savage,  and  Charles  Wyndham. 
Harper's  Weekly,  48  :  1988-89,  1999,  December  24,  1904. 

Manager's  View  of  the  Stage.     Daniel  Frohman. 
Harper's  Weekly,  48:  2022-24,  December  3i»  1904.     New 

Phases    of    Theatre-Management.      Charles     Frohman. 

[Vide  Sketch  of  Frohman.     S.  E.  Moffet.     Cosmopolitan, 

33:  293-96,  July,  1902.] 

314 


'% 


THEATRICAL  SYNDICATE  0!*thllrt(t^ 

International,  i:  99-122,  January,  1900.  The  Theatrical  fatiht^ 
Syndicate.  Norman  Hapgood.  [Vide  his  book,  "The  ^^PMc 
Stage  in  America."] 

Fortnightly  (English) ,  79 :  1010-16,  Jime,  1903.  Theatrical 
Business  in  America.  Charles  Hawtrey.  [Considers  the 
Syndicate  and  gives  Ust  of  theatres.] 

Leslie's  Monthly.  (By  the  Editors).  The  Great  Theatrical 
Syndicate.  I.  The  Dictators  Rise  from  Obscurity.  October, 
1904,  581-92.  II.  The  System  and  Its  Antagonists. 
November,  1904,  31-42.  III.  The  Critics,  the  Play- 
wrights, and  the  System.  December,  1904,  202-10. 
IV.  To-day  and  To-morrow.     January,  1905,  331-34. 

Cosmopolitan,  38:  193-98,  December,  1904.  One  Side. 
David  Belasco. 

Ibid.,  38:  199-201,  December,  1904.  The  Other  Side.  Marc 
Klaw. 

MISCELLANEOUS 

Pall    Mall    Magazine     (English).     The    American    Stage, 

WiUiam Archer.     19:303-16,473-88;  20:  23-37,1899. 
Arena,   25:69-77,  January,    1901.      A  Conversation  with 

Joseph  Haworth,  embodying  Personal  Reminiscences  of 

Great  Actors  in  the  Classic  Drama. 
Arena,   25:  218-20,  February,   1901.     Stage  of  Yesterday 

and  To-day.     B.  O.  Flower. 
Werner's    Magazine,    26  :  488-91,    1901.      A   Century   of 

American  Drama.     William  Winter. 
Independent,  57:  1263-66,    December   i,    1904.      The  Old 

School  and  the  New.     W.  H.  Crane. 
Atlantic,  88:  119-27,  1899.      The  Actor  of  To-day.      Nor- 
man Hapgood. 
International,  5:629-44,  May,  1902.     The  Matter  of  the 

Play.     Minnie  Maddern  Fiske. 
Atlantic,  97 :  577-85,  May,    1906.      Man    and    the  Actor. 

Richard  Mansheld. 
Century,  61 :  28-37,  November,  1900.     Our  Schools  for  the 

Stage.     Bronson  Howard. 
Cosmopolitan,  35 :  359-68,  August,  1903.    Dramatic  Schools 

and  the  Profession  of  Acting.     David  Belasco. 
International  Quarterly,  January,  1905,  pp.  293-302.     The 

Decline  of  Comic  Opera.     W.  J.  Henderson. 
Munsey,  35:  347-59,  June,  1906.      Famous  Actors  of  the 

Nineteenth  Century.     WiUiam  Winter. 


315 


n— THE   BOOTHS 

BOOKS 

1826  Dramatic  Biography  and  Histrionic  Anecdotes. 
William  Oxberry.  London :  G.  Virtue.  [Vide  J.  B. 
B.I 

1863  Notes,  Criticisms,  and  Correspondence  upon  Shake- 
speare's Plays  and  Actors.  James  Henry  Hackett. 
New  York :  Carleton.  [On  the  Hamlet  of  Junius 
Brutus  Booth.] 

1865  Trial,  The,  of  the  Alleged  Assassins  and  Conspirators 
at  Washington  City,  D.  C.  .  »  .  for  the  Murder  of 
President  Lincoln.  .  .  .  Report  of  Philadelphia 
Daily  Inquirer.  Philadelphia:  T.  B.  Peterson  & 
Bros. 

1865  Life,  Crime,  and  Capture  of  John  Wilkes  Booth. 
George  Alfred  Townsend.  New  York:  Dick  & 
Fitzgerald. 

1865  Conspiracy,  The,  [and]  Trial  for  the  Murder  of  the 

President.  Ed.  B.  P.  Poore.  Boston:  J.  E. 
Tilton  &  Co. 

1866  Passages,  Incidents  and  Anecdotes  in  the  Life  of 

Junius  Brutus  Booth  (the  elder),  by  his  Daughter. 
[A  fuller  account  than  the  1882  ed.  This  contains 
a  memorandum  of  Booth's  voyage  to  Holland  in 
1814,  and  an  appendix  of  old  playbills.] 

1868  Shakespeare's  Tragedy  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  as  pro- 
duced by  Edwin  Booth.  (Adapted  from  the  text 
of  the  Cambridge  ed.)  By  H,  L.  Hinton.  New 
York :  Hurd  &  Houghton. 

1868  Tragedian,  The:  An  Essay  on  the  Histrionic  Genius 
of  Junius  Brutus  Booth.  Gould.  New  York: 
Hurd  &  Houghton. 

1870  Booth's  Theatre  Behind  the  Scenes.  [Paper  covers.] 
New  York:  Henry  L.  Hinton. 

1873  Edwin  Booth.  E.  A.  Duyckinck.  [In  his  Port. 
Gal.  Em.  Men,  vol.  2.] 

1877  Forrest,  Edwin,  Life  of:    The  American  Tragedian. 

William  Rounseville  Alger.  Lippincott  (2  vols.). 
[Besides  containing  references  to  Booth,  Jefferson, 
Boucicault,  and  Davenport,  this  work  has  chap- 
ters on  Forrest's  special  roles.) 

1878  Prompt    Books    of    Booth.     Ed.    William    Winter. 

[Printed  for  W.  W.  by  Francis  Hart  &  Co.] 

316 


i88o     Dramatic  Life  as  I  Found  It:  A  Record  of  Personal     ^fllHftQ; 
Experience  with  an  Account  of  the  Drama  in  the      "^^^^^vn^ig' 
West  and  South.     N.  M.  Ludlow.     St.  Louis:  G.     t*fltlTlt; 
I.   Jones   &    Co.     [Innumerable   anecdotal  refer-     *^^t'"c 
ences  to  the  elder  Booth.] 

1882  Booths,  The:  The  Elder  and  the  Younger  Booth. 
Asia  Booth  Clarke.  [Am.  Actor  Series.  Ed. 
Laurence  Hutton.]     Boston:  J.  R.  Osgood  &  Co. 

1886  Actors  and  Actresses  in  Great  Britain  and  the  United 
States,  from  the  Days  of  David  Garrick  to  the 
Present  Time.  (1750-1886.)  Ed.  Brander  Mat- 
thews and  Laurence  Hutton.  New  York :  Cassell 
(5  vols.).  [Vide  under  Edwin  Booth,  Barrett,  and 
Clarke.  In  this  work,  Edwin  Booth  himself  wrote 
two  critical  articles :  On  Junius  Brutus  Booth  and 
on  Edmund  Kean.] 

1 889  Excerpts  from  the  many  Good  Words  uttered  in  honor 

of  Edwin  Booth  at  the  Supper  given  ,  .  .  March 
30,  1889,  by  Augustin  Daly  and  A.  M.  Palmer. 
New  York :  Printed  for  "  The  Players." 
1889-90  Brief  Chronicles.  William  Winter.  (Dunlap 
Soc.  Pub.,  No.  8  seq.)  [Vide  under  Junius  Brutus, 
2d,  and  Mary  McVicker  Booth.] 

1890  Hamlet  from  the  Actor's  Standpoint.     Its  Represen- 

tatives and  a  Comparison  of  their  Performances. 
Henry  Phelps.     New  York:  E.  S.  Werner. 

1 89 1  Actor,  The,  and  Other  Speeches.     William  Winter. 

(Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  No.  13.)  [Vide  Booth,  the 
Tragedian.] 

1893  Booth,  Edwin.  Laurence  Hutton.  (Harper's  Black 
and  White  Series.)  New  York:  Harper.  [Con- 
cise; with  many  valuable  illustrations.] 

1893  Shadows  of  the  Stage.  William  Winter.  New 
York:  Macmillan  (3  series).     [Critical  estimates.] 

1893  Salvini,  Tomasso,  Leaves  from  the  Autobiography 

of.     New  York :  Century. 

1894  Booth,     Edwin:     Recollections    by    his    Daughter, 

Edwina  Booth  Grossman,  and  Letters  to  Her  and 
to  His  Friends.     New  York :  Century. 

1894  Memorial  Celebration  of  the  Sixtieth  Anniversary 
of  the  Birth  of  Edwin  Booth  held  .  .  .  November 
13,  1893,  by  "The  Players."     [Printed  privately.] 

1894  Edwin  Thomas  Booth,  The  Life  and  Art  of. 
William  Winter.  New  York:  Macmillan.  [Con- 
tains admirable  estimates  of  Booth's  rdles.J 

317 


IBibllDQ-     1896     American  Actors,  Famous, of  To-day.     F.  E.  McKay 

'^  »  and  C.  E.  L.  Wingate.     New  York:  T.  Y.  Crowell 

fdDllV  *  ^^-     [^'^®  Edwin  Booth,  Agnes  Booth.] 

*^r  f  t  jg^y     Theatrical    Caricatures,    A    Group    of.     By    W.    J. 

Gladding.     With  Biographical  Sketches  by  Louis 

Evans  Shipman.    (Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  4.)    [Vide 

Booth,  Forrest,  Florence.] 

1897  Kean,  Edmund,  The  Life  and  Adventiu-es  of.  Trage- 

dian. 1 787-1833.  Joseph  Fitzgerald  MoUoy. 
London:  Downey  &  Co. 

1898  Actors  of  the   Century:    A  Play-lover's    Gleanings 

from  Theatrical  Annals.  Frederic  Whyte.  Lon- 
don: Geo.  Bell  &  Sons.  [Ref.  Booth.  Vide  In- 
dex.] 

1899  Players,   Some,     Amy  Leslie    (Lillie  West  Brown). 

Chicago :  Herbert  Stone.     [Vide  Booth,  etc.] 
1 899-1 90 1     Players  of  the  Present.     J.  B.  Clapp  and  E. 
F.  Edgett.      (Dunlap   Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  9,  n,  13.) 
[Vide  Creston  Clarke.] 

1900  Twelve  Great  Actors.     Edward  Robins.     New  York: 

Putnam.  [Vide  under  Junius  and  Edwin.  A 
companion  volume :  Twelve  Great  Actresses.] 

1901  Booth, Edwin.   Charles Townsend Copeland.  Boston: 

Small,  Maynard. 

1902  Plays  of  the  Present.     J.  B.  Clapp  and  E.  F.  Edgett. 

(Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.)     [Vide  Index.] 

1902  Dramatic    Critic,    Reminiscences    of    a.     With    an 

Essay  on  Henry  Irving.  Henry  Austin  Clapp. 
Boston:  Houghton,  Miffin.  [A  critical  chapter 
on  Booth's  acting;  excellent.] 

1903  Hazlitt,  William,  The  Collected  Works  of.    Ed.  A.  R. 

Waller  and  Arnold  Glover,  with  an  introduction 
by  W.  E.  Henley.  New  York:  McClure,  Phillips 
(12  vols.).  [Index,  vol.  12.  Vol.  8:  A  View  of 
the  English  Stage;  Dramatic  Essays  from  The 
London  Magazine.  Ref.  to  Kean  and  Booth 
Controversy.] 

1903  Richard  Henry  Stoddard:  Recollections,  Personal 
and  Literary.  Ed.  Ripley  Hitchcock,  with  an 
Introduction  by  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman.  New 
York:  A.  S.  Barnes  &  Co.     [Vide  Index.] 

1903  Break,  The,  between  Player  and  Poet.  Letters  from 
Edwin  Booth  to  Richard  Henry  Stoddard.  New 
York. 

1906  Whitman,  Walt,  With,  in  Camden.  March  28- 
July  14,  1888.  Horace  Traubel.  Boston:  Small, 
Maynard.     [Ref.  to  the  Booths.] 

318 


MAGAZINES  "BlbllOU' 

1861     Harper,    22  :  702,    April.      [Easy    Chair.]      Booth's      f^srihl) 
RicheUeu.  ^<*r^Z 

1863     Harper,  27:  855,  November.     [Easy  Chair.]     Booth's 
Richelieu. 

1865  Harper,  30:  673,  April.     [Easy  Chair.]     Booth  and 

Hamlet. 

1866  Nation,  2:  395-96,  March  39.      Acting  of  Mr.  Ed- 

win Booth.     O.  B.  Frothingham. 
1866     Atlantic,    16  :  585-93,   May.      Edwin    Booth.      Ed- 

mxmd  Clarence  Stedman.     [Considers  his  Hamlet.] 
1866     Galaxy,     2  :  158-63,      September   i-December     15. 

The  Elder  Booth.     Isaac  C.  Pray. 
1869     Galaxy,    7  :  77-87,    January-July.       Edwin   Booth. 

Lucia  Gilbert  Calhoun. 
1869     Galaxy,  ibid.,  p.  87.     Edwin  Booth  [poem].     Anne 

M.  Crane. 
1876     All  the  Year  Rotmd  [ed.  Charles  Dickens],  36 :  77-84. 

April  8  (n.s.  vol.  16).     A  Gentleman  of  the  Name 

of  Booth.     [Booth-Kean  Controversy  and  Gould's 

book  considered.] 
1881     Harper,  63  :  61-68,  June.     Edwin  Booth.     William 

Winter. 
1 88 1     Harper,  63:  466,  August.     [Easy  Chair.]     Booth  in 

England. 

1881  Lippincott,    28  :  497-502,    November   (n.s.    vol.   2). 

John  S.  Clarke,  Comedian.     William  Stuart. 

1882  Saturday     Review     (English),    54  :  148,    July    29. 

Booth  as  Bertuccio.     [Full  account.] 

1882  Century,  2:  468,  July.     Full  review  of  Mrs.  Clarke's 

The  Booths.     [Also  of  Life  of  Forrest,  and  The 
Jeffersons  in  same  series.] 

1883  Nation,  36  :  358-60,  April   26.     Edwin    Booth    in 

Germany.     T.  Baker. 

1884  Spirit  of  the  Times,  New  York,  January  12.     Junius 

Brutus  Booth. 
1884     Ibid.,  February  9.      Edwin  Booth. 

1890  Century,  17:  443-49,  January.     Pursuit  and  Death 

of    John    Wilkes    Booth.     Edward    P.    Doherty. 
[Vide  also  pp.  428-43,  ibid.,  Nicolay  and  Hay.] 

1 891  Harper,  82  :  329,  February.     Sargent's  Portrait  of 

Booth,  at  "The  Players"  [poem].     T.  B.  Aldrich, 

1891  Century,  n.s.    21:  28,  November.      "The  Players." 

Brander  Matthews.     [Vide  also  The  Theatre  Mag- 
azine, New  York:  Article  on  the  same  subject.] 

1892  Theatre  (English),  n.s.  20:  284,  December.     Booth 

as  King  Lear.     [Ed.  Eghngton.] 

319 


'^ibllDQ*     ^^^•^     Critic,  22:  384-86,  June  10.     Edwin  Booth.     [Ex- 
,4,:?IVilUi^  cellent  biographical  article.] 

TAUbV  ^^^^     Nation,  56:  434-36,  June  15.    Edwin  Booth.     J.  R. 

**^T"t  Lows.     [Good  general  account.] 

1893     Public  Opinion,  15:  248,  June  17.     Quotation  from 

papers  about  Booth. 
1893     Harper's    Weekly,    June    17,    pp.  577-81.     Edwin 

Booth.     Laurence  Button. 
1893     Forum,  15:  594-603,  July.     An  Actor's  Memory  of 

Edwin  Booth.    John  Malone. 
1893     McClure,    i  :  255-67,   August.      Edwin    Booth    On 

and     Off     the     Stage.     Personal     Recollections. 

Adam  Badeau. 
1893     Atlantic,    72  :  307-17,   September.      Edwin    Booth. 

Henry  Austin  Clapp. 
1893     Century,    25  :  132-39,   240-50    (2   pts.),  November, 

December.     Memories     and     Letters     of     Edwin 

Booth.     William  Bispham. 
1893     New  England  Magazine,  n.s.  9:  315-21,  November. 

The  Friendship  of  Booth  and  Julia  Ward  Howe. 

F.  M.  H.  Hall.     [Contains  letters  from  Mary  Devlin 

and  Booth.] 

1893  Critic,  23  :  327-29,  November  18.      "The  Players' " 

Tribute  to  Edwin  Booth.  [Containing  George  E. 
Woodberry's  poem,  "The  Players'  Elegy."] 

1894  Critic,  o.s.  25:  210,  September  29.     Joseph  Jefferson 

on  Edwin  Booth. 

1894  Century,  48:  803,  October.     The  Real  Edwin  Booth 

[Letters].     Edwina  Booth  Grossman. 

1895  Dial    (Ch.),  18  :  17,  January    1.     Mrs.   Grossman's 

Recollections.     E.  A.  Barron. 
1897     McClure,  9:  574,  May.     Capture,  Death,  and  Burial 
of  John  Wilkes  Booth.     Ray  Stannard  Baker. 

1897  Century,  33:  269-79,  December.      Edwin   Booth  in 

London.     E.  H.  House. 

1898  Harper,   96  :  196,  January.      A  Group  of  Players. 

Laurence  Hutton.  [Booth,  Barrett,  Lester  Wal- 
lack,  Montague,  Florence,  McCuUough.  Same 
article  partly  reproduced  in  Living  Age,  216:  129, 
January  8,  1898.] 

1898  Critic,  33:  61-63,  July-August.     The  Edwin  Booth 

Memorial  Window. 

1899  New    England    Magazine,  n.s.    20  :  161-76,    April. 

Through  an  Old  Southern  County  (Belair).     Cal- 
vin Dill  Wilson.     [Ref.  p.  174.] 
1899     Scribner,  26:  426,  October.     Account  of  J.  B.  Booth 
in  Mrs.  Drew's  Autobiographical  Sketch. 

320 


iQOO     Century,    60  :  174,    June.      The     Grave    of    Edwin    1!3tl)ltOCt* 
Booth.     Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich.  " 

1901     McClure,  16:  299-304,  February.     Some  Recollec-     t^flUhV 
tions  of  John  Wilkes  Booth.     Clara  Morris.  ^" 

1 90 1     McClure,  17:  443-49,  September.     Lawrence  Barrett. 
Clara    Morris. 

1 90 1  Atlantic,  88  :  499,  October.      Booth  as   an  Actor. 

Henry  Austin  Clapp.      [Same    as  chapter  in  his 
Reminiscences.] 

1902  Theatre  Magazine,  New    York,   February.      Edwin 

Booth,     ^fred  Ayres. 

1903  Century,  66:  710,  September.     PoorYorick.  Thomas 

Bailey    Aldrich.     [Prose    article    concerning    the 
skull  incident.] 

1904  Century,  67:  414,  January.     Memorable  Letter  of 

Edwin  Booth's.     C.  F.  B.  Roge. 

1904     Ladies'  Home  Journal,  21 :  10,  September.    Romance 
of  Mary  Devlin  Booth.     A.  M.  Fauntleroy. 

1906  Critic,  n.s.  48:  234,  March.  Edwin  Booth  and  Ole 
Bull.  R.  Ogden  Doremus. 
The  student  will  find  many  of  Edwin  Booth's  crit- 
ical remarks  in  H.  H.  Fumess's  Variorum  Shake- 
speare. (Lippincott.)  As  collateral  reading,  vide 
1889,  Lawrence  Barrett:  A  Professional  Sketch, 
by  Elwyn  A.  Barron.  Chicago  :  Knight  &  Leonard 
Co. 


m— THE   JEFFERSONS 

BOOKS 

1795  [seq.]  Monthly  Mirror :  Reflecting  Men  and  Manners. 
With  strictures  on  their  epitome,  the  stage.  [V. 
1-22  (1795-1806) ;  n.s.  V.  1-9  11807-11)  [31  vols.]. 
London.    Vide  vol.  14,  p.  65,  seq.] 

i8ro  Itinerant,  The,  or  Memoirs  of  an  Actor.  S.  W. 
Ryley.     New  York:  Inskeep  &  Bradford  (2 vols.). 

1855  Personal  Recollections  of  the  Stage,  embracing 
notices  of  actors,  authors,  and  auditors,  during  a 
period  of  forty  years.  William  B.  Wood.  Phila- 
delphia: H.  C.  Baird. 

1875  Plays  and  Players.  Laurence  Hutton.  [Vide 
under  Jefferson.]     New  York:  Button. 

1880     Dramatic  Life  as  I  Found  It.     N.  M.  Ludlow. 

321 


ll^lhllDQi       1881     Jefifersons,    The.     William     Winter.      (Am.     Actor 
'^**'     ^*  Series.    Ed.  Laurence  Button.)    Boston :  J.  R.  Os- 

r^UbV  good  &  Co.     [Contains  critical  estimates  of  Bob 

***r"  Z  Acres  and  Rip  Van  Winkle,  besides  lists  of  roles.] 

1886     Actors  and  Actresses  in  Great  Britain  and  the  United 
States.     Ed.   Matthews   &   Hutton.     [Vide   under 
Jefferson  and  Warren.] 
1890     Autobiography    of    Joseph    Jefferson.     New    York: 
Century.       [A    copious     index     makes     this     re- 
markable volume  accessible  for  ready  reference. 
Jefferson  wrote  introductions  to  ed.  "Rip  "  (1895) 
and  "  Cricket  on  the  Hearth  "  (1898).] 
1896     American  Actors,  Famous,  of  To-day.     Ed.    F.   E. 
McKay    and    C.    E.    L.    Wingate.      [Vide    under 
Jefferson  and  Warren.] 
1898     Joseph  Jefferson  at  Home.     Nathan  Haskell  Dole. 
Boston:  Estes  &  Lauriat. 

1898  Laurels,     A     Wreath    of  .  .  .  Speeches.      William 

Winter.      (Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  vol.  7.)     Joseph 
Jefferson:  the  Poet  and  the  Actor. 

1899  Players,  Some.     Amy  Leslie. 

1899  Drama,   The,  of  Yesterday  and  To-day.     Clement 

Scott.      (2  vols.)     New  York:  Macmillan. 

1900  Famous   Actors   of  the   Day   in  America.     Strang. 

Boston:    L.  C.  Page  &  Co.     [Stage  Lover's  Series.] 
1902     Recollections  of  a  Player.     James  Henry  Stoddart. 

New  York:  Century. 
1902     Reminiscences  of  a  Dramatic  Critic.     Henry  Austin 

Clapp.  [Vide  Atlantic,  December,  1888.] 
1906  Joseph  Jefferson:  Reminiscences  of  a  Fellow-Player. 
Francis  Wilson.  New  York:  Scribner's. 
[Full  of  anecdote  and  criticism.  Chapters  are: 
"  First  Acquaintance  " ;  "  Characteristics  " ;  "  Rip 
Van  Winkle  "  ;  "  His  Recreations  "  ;  "  Joseph 
Jefferson  as  a  Lecturer  " ;  "  The  Author  ";  "  '  The 
Rivals '  and  the  All-Star  Performances  " ;  "  Char- 
acteristic Days  " ;  "  Conclusion."  A  copious 
index.  This  book  includes  material  found  in 
Scribner's  Magazine,  February,  1906  seq.] 

MAGAZINES 

1867     Atlantic,  19:  750-61,  June.     Among  the  Comedians. 

L.    Clarke    Davis.     [Warren,    Jefferson,    Clarke, 

Owens.] 
1869     Lippincott,    4:  167-76,    August.      Joseph  Jefferson. 

James  B.  Runnion.     [Critical.] 

322 


i869     Ration,  9:247,  September  23.     Rip.     A.  G.  Sedg-    l^ttlllOQ:; 

1870  Scribner,    i :  216,  December.     "  The  Old   Cabinet."    t^Uht? 

Jefferson's  Rip.  ^^  ^ 

1871  Harper,   42:614,    March.      [Easy   Chair.]      George 

William  Curtis  on  Jefferson. 

1878  Appleton,    19  :  146-51.     Jefferson  as   Rip. 

1879  Scribner,     18:321-33,    July.      The    American    on 

the  Stage.  Brander  Matthews.  [Jefferson  and 
Hackett,  etc.] 

1879  Lippincott,  24:  57-75»  July.     At  and  After  the  Play. 

[Jefferson  and  Rip.]  L.  Clarke  Davis.  [Critical 
and  personal.] 

1880  Scribner,  21:  183,  December.    Sheridan's  "Rivals." 

Brander  Matthews.  [Vide  Jefferson  and  Mrs. 
Drew.] 

1882  North  American  Review,  n.s.  135:  580-602,  Decem- 

ber. Success  on  the  Stage.  [Views  of  Jefferson, 
McCuUough,  Modjeska,  Barrett,  Maggie  Mitchell, 
and  William  Warren.] 

1883  Atlantic,  52:  695-703,  November.    A  Good-by  to  Rip 

Van  Winkle.     G.  A.  Pierce. 

1884  Spiritof  the  Times,  New  York,  January  5.     Jefferson. 

[Ibid.:  January  26,  Forrest;  April  5,  Florence.] 
1884     Century,    5:476,    January.     Joseph    Jefferson    as 

Caleb  Plummer.     J.  R.  Towse. 
1886     Harper,  73:39i-97>  August.      Jefferson.     William 

Winter. 

1888  Atlantic,  62:  786-96,  December.     William  Warren. 

Henry  Austin  Clapp.  [Vide  ante, "Reminiscences."] 

1889  Cosmopolitan,  7:  121-27,  June.     Jefferson  at  Home. 

W.  H.  Ballou. 

1889  Century,    n.s.    17:3    (November).      Autobiog.  Jef- 

ferson, begun. 

1890  Ibid.,  n.s.  18:814  (October).     Autobiog.    Jefferson, 

finished. 
1890     Nation,  51 :  386,  November  13.     Autobiog.  reviewed 

by  Brander  Matthews. 
1894     Critic,  25:  210,  September  29.     Jefferson  on  Edwin 

Booth. 

1894  Dial  (Ch.),  17:256,  November  i.     Winter's  Life  of 

Jefferson  reviewed.     E.  G.  J. 

1895  Munsey,     12:497-502,    February.     Dean     of     the 

American  Stage.      M.  Bacheller. 
1895     Dramatic    Mirror,    New    York,   35:886,   December. 
Birthplace  of  Jefferson.     W.  S.  Hale. 

323 


Tfiihlinfl'      1806     Current   Literature,    19:  138,  February.     Origin  of 
M,  iv»iv^  j^jp  ^^^  Winkle. 

t*at]h«  1896     Critic,  n.s.  25:  432,  June  13.      Jefferson  on  His  Art. 

*"f*fc  1898     Critic,  n.s.  29:238,  April  2.     Mr,  Jefferson  in  His 

Best  R61e. 

1898     Ladies'     Home     Journal,    15  :  2,    May.     Rip    Van 

Winkle    as    He    Is  at  Home.     Josephine   Robb. 

1898     Critic,  n.s.  30  :  285-87,  October.     Speech  at  Diimer 

in  Honor  of  Tolstoy. 

1898  Critic,    n.s.    30:373,    November.     Jefferson's    Per- 

formance of  "  The  Rivals." 

1899  Scribner,  26:422,  October.      Sketch  of  Joseph  (II). 

[In  Mrs.  Drew's  Autobiographical  Sketch.] 

1900  Harper's  Weekly,  44:  442,  May  12.     Greatest  Amer- 

ican Actor.     L.  Reamer. 

1901  Critic,  39:32-36,  July.     Mr.  Joseph  Jefferson  as  a 

Painter.  A.  D.  Albert,  Jr.  [Contains  reproduc- 
tions of  paintings.] 

1905  Century,  69:  466,  January.  Two  Optimists  (poem). 
[Jefferson  and  Helen  Keller.]     R.  W.  Gilder. 

1905  Independent,  58:  967,  April  27.  Estimate  of  Jef- 
ferson.    [M.  J.  M.] 

1905     Outlook,  79:  1027,  April  29.     Estimate  of  Jefferson. 

1905  Harper's  Weekly,  May  6,  p.  657.  Recollections  of 
Joseph  Jefferson.  Laurence  Hutton.  [Written 
in  November,  1898.] 

1905     Outlook,  80:  17,  May  6.   As  the  Spectator  Knew  Him. 

1905  Harper's  Weekly,  49:  684-85,  May  13.  Jefferson 
as  a  Painter.     Frederic  Remington. 

1905  Reader,  6:  10-11,  June.  Joseph  Jefferson.  J.  S. 
Metcalfe. 

1905  Critic,  46:505,  June.  Jefferson's  Poem  on  Im- 
mortality. 

1905  World's  Work,  10:6317-20,  June.  Joseph  Jeffer- 
son.    James  Huneker. 

1905  Critic,  46:  502,  June.  Tribute  to  Jefferson.  WilUam 
Winter.     [Taken  from  New  York  Tribune.] 

1905  Critic,  46:504,  June.  Poet  to  His  Friend  (jpoem). 
William  Winter. 

1905  New  England  Magazine,  n.s.  32:  395,  June.  Amer- 
ica's Greatest  Actor.     Henri  Lauriston. 

1905  Current  Literature,  38:  485,  June.  Jefferson  on  the 
Psychology  of  Rip. 

1905  Review  of  Reviews,  New  York,  31:674-77,  June. 
Career  of  Joseph  Jefferson.     Joseph  B.  Gilder. 

1905  Century,  n.s.  48:  474,  July.  The  Passing  of  Jeffer- 
son  (poem).     R.  W.  Gilder. 

324 


igos  Lippincott,  76:574-76,  November.  An  Inherited  T3tbllOQ* 
Autograph.  Isabel  G.  Curtis.  [Showing  similar-  ^^^*^  **^' 
ity  in  handwritings   of  Jefiferson  I  and  Jefferson     t*9.DtlV 


IV— THE   SOTHERNS 

BOOKS 

1878  Birds  of  a  Feather.  Ed.  F.  G.  De  Fontaine.  New 
York:  Carleton.  [Consists  of  autobiographical 
data,  and  anecdotes  told  of  E.  A.  S.] 

1880  Our  Actors  and  Actresses :  the  dramatic  list;  a  record 
of  the  performances  of  living  actors  and  actresses 
of  the  British  stage.  London.  [E.  A.  S.,  and 
Lytton.     Ed.  Charles  Eyre  Pascoe.] 

1886  Actors  and  Actresses  in  Great  Britain  and  the  United 
States.  Ed.  Matthews  and  Hutton.  [E.  A.  S.  by 
W.  J.  Florence.] 

1889  Memoir  of  E.  A.  Sothern.  T.  Edgar  Pemberton. 
London:  Richard  Bentley  &  Son. 

1889  Memories  of  Fifty  Years,  by  Lester  Wallack.     With 

an  Introduction  by  Laurence  Hutton.  New  York : 
Scribner's. 

1890  Autobiography  of  Joseph  Jefferson.     Century. 

1890  Our  Recent  Actors.     Westland  Marston.     London: 

Sampson,  Low,  [An  excellent  book.  Chap.  22, 
E.  A.  S. ;  24,  A.  Wigan;  26,  Wallack,  Power. 
Chap.  13,  Charlotte  Cushman.] 

1 891  Journal    of    a    London    Playgoer.     Henry    Morley. 

Routledge  &  Sons.  [Covering  years  1851-66.] 
1896  American  Actors,  Famous,  of  To-day.  F.  E.  Mc- 
Kay and  C.  E.  L.  Wingate.  [E.  H,  S.  by  E.  M, 
Alfriend.] 
1898  Dictionary  National  Biog.  Ed.  Sidney  Lee.  Lon- 
don: Smith,  Elder.  [E.  A.  S.  by  Jos.  Knight. 
Contains  further  Bibliography.] 

1898  Actors  of  the  Century :  A  Play-lover's  Gleanings  from 

Theatrical  Annals.  Frederic  Whyte.  [Lester 
Wallack  on  Dundreary.] 

1899  Drama,  The,  of  Yesterday  and  To-Day.     Clement 

Scott. 

1900  Famous   Actors   of   the   Day  in   America.     Strang. 

[Under  E.  H.  S.] 
1900     Famous   Actresses.      Ibid,  series.      [Under   Virginia 
Harned.] 

325 


"IPiillliDQ?     ^^'''^     Twelve   Great  Actors.     Edward   Robins.      [Chapter 

t*91)llV  ^9°^     Actors,    Eminent,    and    Their    Homes.     Margherita 

^%*rvt  Arlina  Hamm.   New  York :  Potts.    [Under  E.  H.  S. 

and  Virginia  Harned.J 

1902  Dramatic  Critic,  Reminiscences  of  a.     Henry  Austin 

Clapp.     [Under  E.  A.  S.] 

1903  Actors    and    Actresses,    Famous,   in   Their   Homes. 

Gustave   Kobb6.     Boston:  Little,  Brown. 

1904  London    Stage,    History   of    the,   and    Its    Famous 

Players.  H.  Barton  Baker.  New  York:  Dutton. 
[Under  Index,  vide  Booths,  Jeffersons,  Sothems, 
Boucicaults,  Wallacks,  Alfred  Wigan.  Vide 
Drury  Lane,  Covent  Garden,  Haymarket.] 

MAGAZINES 

1878  Theatre  (English),  August- January,  1878-79.    Rem- 

iniscences, by  E.  A.  S.  (August).     [Vide  Index.] 

1879  Ibid.     [Vide  Index.] 

1881     Ibid.,  7:  161-69,  March.     Stories  of  E.  A.  S. 
1884     Spirit  of  the  Times,  New  York,  March  8.     E.  A.  S. 

1888  Theatre  (English),  April  2.     Personal  Reminiscences 

of  E.  A.  S.     T.  Edgar  Pemberton. 

1889  Saturday  Review  (English),  68  :  567-68,  November 

16,     Review  of  Pemberton's  book. 

1889  Spectator  (English),  63:  676-77,  November  16.     Re- 

views of  Pemberton's  book  on  E.  A.  S. 

1890  Academy  (English),  37:  87-88,  February  i.     Review 

of  Pemberton's  book  by  Frederick  Hawkins. 
1892     Arena,   6:  517-31,  October.      Edward   H.   Sothem. 
Mildred  Aldrich. 

1900  Harper's  Weekly,  44:  946,  October  6.     Sothem  in 

Hamlet.     D.  Reamer. 

1901  Munsey,  26:  320-22,  December.     Sothem  as  a  Star 

and   Before. 

1902  Century,  64:  196-203,  June.     Humor  of  the  Elder 

Sothern.     L.  D.  Fuller. 

1903  Independent,  55:  298,  February  5.     Shakespeare  in 

New  York.     W.  L.  Phelps,  Ph.D. 
1903     LesUe's  Monthly,  55  :  422-24.    Joseph  Jefferson.    E. 

H.  Sothem. 
1903     Scribner,    33:506,   April.      Life  the  Lover  (poem). 

E.  H.  Sothern. 

326 


1003  Ladies'  Home  Journal,  20:4-5,  October.     Edward      Ol^t'hHnflj 

H.  Sothern  and  His  Wife.     Gustave  Kobbe.  it^lUilU^* 

1004  Harper's    Weekly,    48  :  20,    Janiiary    2.      Another      tflDllV 

Year  (poem).     E.  H.  Sothern.  •^•t'VC 

1904     Harper's  Weekly,  48:  200,  February  6.     Remember 

(poem).     E.  H.  Sothern. 
1904     Critic,  45:  525-31,  December.     Miss  Marlowe  and 

Mr.  Sothern  in  Shakespeare.     Charles  E.  Russell. 


V— THE   BOUCICAULTS 

[In  the  preparation  of  this  chapter,  I  am  indebted  to  Mr. 
Aubrey  Boucicault  for  kind  assistance.] 

ARTICLES  BY  DION  BOUCICAULT 

1877  Decline  of  the  Drama,  The.     North  American  Re- 

view, September,  125:  235-45. 

1878  Dramatic  Composition,  The  Art  of .     North  American 

Review,  January-February,  126:  40-52. 

1881     Ireland,  The  Story  of.     Boston:  J.  R.  Osgood  &  Co. 

1884  London  Audiences.  Theatre  (English),  July-De- 
cember [September  i]. 

1887  Press,  The  Decline  and  Fall  of  the.  North  American 
Review,  July,  145:  32-39- 

1887  Coquelin-Irving.     North  American  Review,  August, 

145:  158-61. 

1888  Pupils,   My   [Madison    Square   Theatre,   New   York 

School].     North  American  Review,  October,  147: 
435-40. 

1888  Shakespeare's     Influence    on    the    Drama.      North 

American  Review,  December,  147:  680-85, 

1889  Dramatist,  The  Debut  of  a  [Autobiographic].     North 

American  Review,  April,  148:  454-63. 
1889     Dramatist,     Early    Days    of    a     [Autobiographic]. 

North  American  Review,  May,  148:  584-93. 
1889     Dramatist's  Diary,  Leaves  from  a  [Autobiographic]. 

North  American  Review,  August,  149:   228-36. 

1889  Theatres,  Halls,  and  Audiences.     North  American 

Review,  October,  149:  429-36. 

1890  American  Drama,  The  Future.     Arena,  November, 

2:  641-52. 


EDITIONS   OF   PLAYS 

[A  complete  bibliography  of  Boucicault's  dramas  is  difficult 
to  obtain.  The  following  are  a  few  of  the  plays  that  have 
been  printed.] 

Colleen  Bawn,  The ;  or,  The  Brides  of  Garryowen.  A  do- 
mestic drama.     London:  T.  H.  Lacy  [i86-?]. 

Foul  Play.  [Boucicault  and  Reade.]  London:  Chatto  & 
Windus  [i8— ?].     Also  New  York  ed. 

Grimaldi;  or,  The  Life  of  an  Actress.     New  York,  1856. 

Irish  Heiress,  The.  A  comedy  in  five  acts.  London: 
Andrews,  1842. 

Jessie  Brown;  or,  The  Relief  of  Lucknow.  New  York:  S. 
French,  1858.     [Ed,  also  Lacy,  London.] 

London  Assurance.  A  comedy.  New  York:  S.  French 
[1864?],  London:  J.  Andrews [1841].  Philadelphia :  Tur- 
ner &  Fisher  [18—?]. 

Long  Strike,  The.     New  York:  S.  French  [18—?]. 

My  Little  Girl.  [Adapted  from  W.  Besant's  and  J.  Rice's 
novel  of  that  name.]     London:  S.  French  [18 — ?]. 

Octoroon,  The;  or,  Life  in  Louisiana.  London:  T.  H.  Lacy 
[18—?]. 

Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts.  [J.  W.  Wallack's  copy.] 
New  York:  W.  Taylor  &  Co.  [18—?].  London:  National 
Acting  Drama  Office  [18 — ?]. 

Pauline :  a  drama  in  five  acts  and  seven  tableaux,  translated 
and  adapted  from  the  French.  New  York:  S.  French 
[18-?]. 

Pauvrette.     New  York:  S.  French,  1858. 

Phantom,  The.     New  York,  1856. 

Prima  Donna,  The.  [Comedy  in  two  acts.]  London:  T. 
H.  Lacy  [18—?]. 

Queen  of  Spades.  [Adapted  from  "  La  dame  de  pique  " 
of  A.  E.  Scribe.]     London:  T.  H.  Lacy  [18 — ?]. 

Rapparee,  The;  or.  The  Treaty  of  Limerick.  [Prompter's 
copy.] 

School  for  Scheming,  The.  London:  National  Acting 
Drama  Office  [18—?]. 

Shaughraun,  The.     London:  S.  French  [187 — ?], 

West  End;  or,  The  Irish  Heiress.  New  York:  S.  French 
[18— ?].   Boston:  W.  V.  Spencer  [18—?].  London  [18—?], 

Willow  Copse,  The.     Boston:  W.  V,  Spencer,  1855, 

[Mr.  Aubrey  Boucicault  has  written  a  critique  on  his  father's 
work,  printed  in  the  "  Actor's  Society  Bulletin,"  Decem- 
ber, 1905 ;  he  has  likewise  discussed  his  role  in  Hall  Caine's 
"  The  Prodigal  Son  "  in  "  The  Broadway  Magazine," 
February,  1906.] 

328 


1852     Letter   ...    to    the    Dramatic   Authors    of   France.  . 

Translated  by  Charles  James  Mathews  from  him-  I^^PUV 
self,  as  a  specimen  of  "  fair  imitation  or  adapta- 
tion "  according  to  the  terms  of  the  international 
copyright  convention.  London:  J.  Mitchell. 
Ibid.  Lettre  .  .  .  aux  auteurs  dramatiques  de  la 
France.  [In  connection  with  Boucicault's  interest 
in  the  copyright  laws,  vide  Reade  and  Dickens.] 

1879  Mathews,  Charles  James,  Life  of.     Charles  Dickens. 

[Chiefly  autobiographical.]  London:  Macmillan 
(2  vols.t. 

1880  Our  Actors  and  Actresses :  the  dramatic  list.   Charles 

Eyre  Pascoe.     [Good  article  on  Boucicault.] 
1883     Readiana:  Comments  on  Current  Events.     London: 
Chatto  &  Windus.    [Contains  a  discussion  about 
*'  Foul  Play  "  and  plagiarism.] 

1886  Actors  and  Actresses  in  Great  Britain  and  the  United 

States.  Ed.  Mathews  &  Hutton.  [Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Boucicault,  by  B.  E.  Martin.] 

1887  Charles     Reade,     Dramatist,    Novelist,    Journalist. 

Charles  L.  Reade  and  Rev.  Compton  Reade. 
[Ed.  New  York.] 

1888  Dickens,  Charles,  and  the  Stage:  A  record  of  his 

connection  with  the  drama  as  pla)rwTight,  actor, 
and  critic.  T.  Edgar  Pemberton.  London:  Geo. 
Redway. 

1889  Memories  of  Fifty  Years,  by  Lester  Wallack.     New 

York:  Scribner's. 

1890  Autobiography  of  Joseph  Jefferson.     Century. 

1891  Burton,  W.  E.,   Life   of.     W.   L.   Keese.      (Dunlap 

Soc.  Pub.,  vol.   14.)     [Ref.  Agnes  Robertson.] 
1894     Acting  and  Actors.  ...  A  Book  about  Theatre  Folk 
and  Theatre  Art.     Alfred  Ayres.     Preface,  Harri- 
son Grey  Fiske.     New  York :  Appleton.     [On  the 
Palmer-Boucicault  School  of  Acting.] 
1896     Le    Theatre    Anglaise,    hier,    aujourd'hui,    demain. 
Pierre  Marie  Augustin  Filon,  Paris.     [Ed.  tr.  by 
Frederic    Whyte,   with    Introduction    by    Henry 
Arthur    Jones.       Dodd,    Mead.       References    to 
Boucicault.] 
1896     American  Actors,  Famous,  of  To-day.     F.  E.  McKay 
and    C.    E.    L.  Wingate.      [Boucicault,   by   Vance 
Thompson.] 

1898  Actors  of  the  Century.     Frederic  Whyte. 

1899  Drama,  The,  of  Yesterday  and  To-day.     Clement 

Scott. 

329 


IBtbltOCl^     *^°^     Plays  of  the  Present.     Clapp  &  Edgett. 

"       1903     Reade,  Charles,  as  I  Knew  Him.     John  Coleman. 
London:  Treherne  &  Co. 


rapQr 


MAGAZINES 

1862     Athenaeum  (English),  March  8,  p.  337.     [On  Bouci- 

cault's  **  The  Life  of  An  Actress."] 
1872     Once  a  Week,  26:430,  May  11.     Dion  Boucicault. 

[Short    but    concise.     Mentions    "  Foul    Play  " ; 

also  his  (B.'s)  brothers.] 
1875     New  York  Times,  July  4.     [On  Mrs.  Boucicault.] 
1875     Harper,  51 :  293,  July.      [Easy  Chair.]     [George  W. 

Curtis.]     On  the  Shaughraun. 
1879     Spirit  of  the  Times,  New  York.     [Through  files  of 

year  et  seq.  for  references.] 
1879     Theatre    (English),  August-December.     [November, 

pp.  186-88.]     Boucicault  on  Himself. 
1890     Arena,  3:47-60,  December.     Dion  Boucicault.     A. 

C.  Wheeler. 

1890     Saturday  Review  (English),  70:373,  September  27. 

[Death  notice  of  D.  B.     Estimate.] 
1890     Academy  (English),  38:  278,  September  27.     [Death 

notice,  D.  B.] 

1890  Critic,    o.s.    17:  158,    September  27.      [Account    of 

D.  B.] 

1891  Theatre  (English),  n.s.  17:  41,  January  i.     London 

Assurance. 
1891     Theatre,  ibid.,  n.s.  18:  27,    July  i.     Formosa.    [Ed. 

Capes  &  Eglington.] 
1896     Saturday   Review    (English),   vol.    81,   February    i. 

"  Dear    Harp    of    My    Country  "    ["  The    Colleen 

Bawn  "],  by  George  Bernard  Shaw. 
1901     Cosmopolitan,     31:575-83,     October.     Beauty     on 

the   Stage.     Geo.    H.    Casamajor.      [Nina   Bouci- 
cault.] 
1903     Munsey,  28:  944-45,  March.     Aubrey  Boucicault  as 

an  Actor:  Another  Case  of  Heredity. 
1905     Cosmopolitan,     38:  273-78,    January.     A    Memory 

of  Dion  Boucicault.     Clara  Morris. 
1905     Theatre,  New  York,  December.    Letters  from  Players. 

Joseph  Ames.     [One  letter,  the  author  claims,  of 

i860,  with  r  to  name.] 


330 


VI— THE    HACKETTS  'Blblfofi* 

BOOKS  tSpl^V 

1847  Twenty-six  Years  of  the  Life  of  an  Actor  and  Man- 
ager. Wemyss.  New  York:  Burgess,  Stringer 
&  Co.      (2  vols.)      [Hackett  on  Forrest.] 

1849  Account  of  the  terrific  and  fatal  riot  at  the  New 
York  Astor  Place  Opera  House,  on  the  night  of 
May  10,  1849;  with  the  quarrels  of  Forrest  and 
Macready.  New  York :  H.  M.  Ranney.  [Hackett 
was  manager  at  the  time.] 

1863  Notes,  Criticisms,  and  Correspondence  upon  Shake- 
speare's Plays  and  Actors.  James  H.  Hackett. 
New  York:  Carleton.  [Contains  a  sketch  of  the 
actor  by  Charles  J.  Foster.] 

1868  Theatrical  Management  in  the  West  and  South  for 

Thirty  Years,  with  Anecdotal  Sketches  by  Solomon 
Franklin  Smith.  New  York:  Harper.  [A  letter 
from  J.  H.  H.  to  Smith  describing  the  New  York 
Shakespeare  Monument,  p.  249.  Ref.  to  Booth, 
p.  229.     Vide  Index.] 

1869  Irving,  Washington,  The  Life  and  Letters  of.     Ed. 

Pierre    Irving.     New    York:  Putnam    &   Son    (4 

vols.).     [Vide  also  reference  to  Jefferson.] 
1 87-?  Hackett,  John  K.,  Record  of,  as  Recorder,  founded 

upon  official  documents.     New  York. 
1886     Actors  and  Actresses  in  Great  Britain  and  the  United 

States.     Ed.    Matthews   and   Hutton.     [J.  H.  H., 

by  J.  N.  Ireland.     Vide  also  J.  H.  H.'s  remarks  on 

Kean,  vol.  3.] 
1889     Brief    Chronicles.     William    Winter.     [Vide    under 

J.   H.   H.] 
1893     Shadows  of  the  Stage.     William  Winter.  (3  series.) 

[Hackett's  Falstaff.] 
1900     Famous  Actors  of  the  Day  in  America. 

Famous  Actresses  of  the  Day  in  America.     Strang. 

(2   vols.)     [Under  James   K.  Hackett  and   Mary 

Mannering.) 
1902     Actors,     Eminent,     in     their     Homes.     Margherita 

Arlina   Hamm.     [Vide    under   Hackett  and   Mary 

Mannering.] 

MAGAZINES 

1862  Spirit  of  the  Times,  New  York,  February.  [J.  H.  H., 
by  Charles  J.  Foster.] 

331 


TBtbltOCl'    1867     Harper,    35:  394,  August.      [Easy  Chair.]     George 

^  William  Curtis.     [Hackett's  Falstaff.] 

l^flPllV  ^^7''     Galaxy,    14:    550,    October.     Souvenirs    of    J.    H. 

^  ^  ^  Hackett.     John  Durand. 

1879     Scribner,  18:  321-33,  July.     The  American  on  the 

Stage.     Brander  Matthews. 
1889     Gentleman's  Magazine,  n.s.  42:  425.     Famous  Fal- 
staffs.     W.  J.  Lawrence. 

1900  Munsey,  23:  845-47,  September.     How  Mary  Man- 

nering  Came  to  be  Janice  Meredith. 

1901  Arena,    25:  220-24,    February.      A   Representative 

Young  American  Actor  [James  K.  Hackett].     B. 
O.  Flower. 

1902  Theatre,    New    York,   July.     Interview   with   Mary 

Mannering.     W.  de  Wagstaffe. 

1903  Munsey,  28:  935-44,  March.     The  Clever  Son  of  a 

Famous  Father.     [J.  K.  H.] 
1903     Independent,  55 :  973-74.  April  23.     A  University  for 
the  Drama.     James  K.  Hackett. 


Vn— DREWS  AND  BARRYMORES 

BOOKS 

1890  Autobiography  of  Joseph  Jefferson.     Century. 

1891  Ada     Rehan:     A     Study.     William     Winter.     [113 

copies  only  printed.] 

1896  American  Actors,  Famous,  of  To-day.     F.  E.  McKay 

and  C.  E.  L.  Wingate.  [John  Drew,  by  J.  S.  Met- 
calfe; Mrs.  John  Drew,  by  T.  Allston  Brown; 
Maurice  Barrymore,  by  E.  F.  Coward.] 

1897  Maeder,     Clara     Fisher,     Autobiography     of.     Ed. 

Douglas  Taylor.  (Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  No.  3.) 
[Account  of  Mrs.  John  Drew  and  ref.  to  Sothem. 
Introductory:  Description  of  New  York  City  in 
1827.] 

1899  Mrs.  John  Drew,  Autobiographical  Sketch  of.     In- 

troduction   by    John    Drew.     Biographical    notes 
by  Douglas  Taylor.     New  York :  Scribner's. 
1899-1901     Players   of   the    Present.     Clapp   and   Edgett. 
[Vide  Barrymore  and  Drew.] 

1900  Famous    Actors    of    the  Day  in  America.     Strang. 

[Vide  Drew,  etc.] 
1900     John    Drew.      Edward    A.    Dithmar.     New   York: 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  Co. 

332 


looi  Mrs.  Anne  Jane  Hartley  Gilbert,  Stage  Reminis-  Ol^fTlTfrtft' 
cences  of.  Ed.  C.  M.  Martin.  New  York:  Scrib-  ^l*J»'*W»' 
ner's.     [Ref.  to  John  Drew.]  f SUllV 

MAGAZINES 

1887-8     Theatre  (English),  3:  152.     Recollections  of  John 

Drew,  Sr.     Benjamin  G.  Rogers. 
1892     New  York  Tribune,  October  4.     Analysis  of  John 

Drew's  Work.     William  Winter. 
1894     Scribner,   15  :  32-47,    January.     The   Actor.     John 

Drew.     [Description  of  the  life.] 

1899  Independent,  51 :  3018-19,  November  9.     Changes 

and    Tendencies   of   the   American    Stage.     John 
Drew. 

1900  Munsey,  22 :  593,  597-98,  January.     Sketch  of  Mau- 

rice Barrymore. 
1900     Book  Buyer,  20:  41-44,  February.     What  Are  They 
That  Do  Play?     John  Malone.     [Review  of  Mrs. 
Drew's  book.] 

1900  Munsey,  22:  889-94,  March.     Career  of  Ethel  Bar- 

rymore. 

1901  Munsey,  26  :  308-20,  December.     John  Drew  and 

His  Plays. 

1901  Theatre,  New  York,  December.     John  Drew.     Kate 

Masterson. 

1902  Cosmopolitan,    32  :  305-8,   January.     John   Barry- 

more's  Work.     H.  H.  Boyesen. 

1902  Theatre,  New  York,  November.     Chats  with  Players, 

No.  12.      Ethel  Barrymore. 

1903  Ladies'Home  Journal,  20:  3-4,  June.     Girlishness  of 

Barrymore.     Gustave   Kobbe. 
1903     Ladies' Home  Journal,  20:  7-8,  July.     John  Drew 
and  His  Daughter.     Gustave  Kobbe. 

1903  McClure,    22  :  204-11,   December.      Where    I    First 

Met  Ellen  Terry  and  Mrs.  John  Drew.     [A  Dress- 
ing-Room  Reception.]     Clara  Morris, 

1904  Cosmopolitan,    37  :  237,   June.      Ethel   Barrymore. 

W.  Shaw. 

1905  Theatre,   New   York,  May,     Maurice    Barrymore — 

Actor,  Scholar,  and  Wit.     Henry  Miller. 
1905     New  York  Tribune,  March  26.     Maurice  Barrymore. 

William  Winter.     [P.  3,  col.  3-1 
1905     Theatre,  New  York,  June.     Personal  Recollections 

of  Augustin  Daly.     Margaret  Hall.     [Ref,  Drew. 

June,  seq.] 

333 


Ti^illliflfT'  1906     Scribner,  March.      Jefferson  and    the  All-Star  Cast 

^iv^iui^'  jj^   ,,j^^  Rivals."     (Ref.    to    Mrs.    Drew.      Like- 

ITHDIIV  ^'^^  '"  Francis  Wilson's  book  on  Jefferson,  of 

**r*f  c  which  this  article  forms  a  part.] 


VIII— THE   WALLACKS 

BOOKS 

1828     The  Pilot  of  the  German  Ocean.     A  melodrama.     W. 

H.  Wallack  [?].     New  York:  Elton. 
1S30     Lord    Byron,    Letters    and    Journals    of.     Thomas 

Moore.     New  York:  J.  &  J.  Harper  (2  vols.). 
1835     Frances  Anne  Kemble  Butler,  Journal  by.     London: 

John  Murray  (2  vols.). 
1839     Tortesa,    the    Usurer.     N.    P.    Willis.     New    York: 

Samuel  Colman. 

1847  Twenty-six  Years  of  the  Life  of  an  Actor  and  Man- 

ager.    Wemyss. 

1848  Lives  of  the  Most  Celebrated  Actors  and  Actresses. 

Thomas  Marshall.  London:  E.  Appleyard.  [Mac- 
ready  and  his  father;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mathews;  J. 
W.  Wallack — excellent;  Boucicault's  "London 
Assurance."] 

1854  Congreve's  comedy  of  "  Love  for  Love,"  carefully 
revised,  etc.,  by  J.  W.  Wallack.  New  York: 
Appleton. 

1857  Robert  William  EUiston,  The  Life  and  Enterprises 
of,  (Comedian).  George  Raymond.  [Illustrations 
by  Cruikshank  &  Phiz.]     London :  Routledge  &  Co. 

1859  The  Veteran,  or  France  and  Algeria  [drama].  J. 
Lester  Wallack.     New  York:  S.  French. 

1859  Honour  Before  Wealth;  or.  The  Romance  of  a  Poor 
Young  Man.  A  drama  in  four  acts.  Adapted 
from  the  French  by  Pierrepont  Edwards  and  J. 
Lester  Wallack.  [Vide  Octave  Feuillet.]  London : 
T.  H.  Lacy;  New  York:  S.  French. 

1863  Notes,  Criticisms,  and  Correspondence  upon  Shake- 
speare's Plays  and  Actors.  James  H.  Hackett. 
[Wallack's  Hamlet.] 

1865  James  William  Wallack  (Senior),  A  Sketch  of  the 
Life  of.  Late  Actor  and  Manager.  New  York: 
T.  H.  Morrell. 

334 


1871  Kembles,  The:  An  account  of  the  Kemble  family,  in-  'KthllOQi 
eluding  the  lives  of  Mrs.  Siddons  and  her  brother,  a^**'**^^' 
J.  P.  Kemble.     London:  Tinsley  Bros.  (2  vols.).      '^^tlTl'tf 

1880     Dramatic  Life  as  I  Found  It.     N.  M.  Ludlow.     [Biog.  ""  ^ 

Forrest,  J.  W.  Wallack,  Sr.,  J.  H.  Hackett,  etc.] 

1880  Ophelia  and  Portia,  On.     Lady  Helen  Faucit  Martin. 

[Privately  printed.] 

1881  Desdemona,  On.     Lady  H.  Faucit  Martin.     [Private 

circulation.]     Edinburgh:  W.  Blackwood  &  Sons. 
1881     Drury  Lane,  In  and  About:  and  Other  Papers.     Dr. 
John   Doran.     London:  Richard   Bentley   &  Son 
(2  vols.). 

1881  Drury    Lane,    Old:    Fifty    Years'    Recollections    of 

Author,  Actor,  and  Manager.  Edward  Stirling. 
London:  Chatto  &  Windus  (2  vols.).  [Ref. 
Wallack;  a  particularly  long  account  of  Dion 
Boucicault  and  his  "  Babil  and  Bijou  "  venture; 
also  ref.  to  Booth  and  Sothern.] 

1882  Records   of  a   Later   Life.     Frances   Anne   Kemble 

Butler.     New  York:  Henry  Holt. 
1886     Actors  and  Actresses  in  Great  Britain  and  the  United 

States.      Ed.   Matthews     and     Hutton.      [J.     W. 

Wailack  and  Lester  Wallack,  by  William  Winter.] 
1888  Hamlet,  A    Performance    of  Shakespeare's  Tragedy, 

by  the  Leading  Players  of  America  in  Honor  of 

Lester  Wallack  .   .   .  May  21,  1888.     New  York: 

The  Ogden  Press. 

1888  Cooper,  Thomas  Abthorpe,  A  Memoir  of  the  Pro- 

fessional Life  of.  J.  N.  Ireland.  (^Dunlap  Soc. 
Pub.,  No.  5.)     [Ref.  to  Wallack.] 

1889  Memories  of  Fifty  Years,  by  Lester  Wallack.     With 

an  Introduction  by  Laurence  Hutton.     New  York : 
Scribner's.     [Chap.  7  indicates  Wallack's   method 
of  study.] 
1889-90     Brief  Chronicles.     William  Winter.     [Vide  J.  W. 
W.;  J.  W.  W.,  Jr.  and  Lester.] 

1890  Gilbert,  John,  A   Sketch   of   the   Life   of.     WilUam 

Winter.  iDunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  No.  11.)  [Vide  p.  34 
seq.     Wallack  Theatre.) 

1890  Autobiography  of  Joseph  Jefferson.     Century. 

1891  Actor,  The,  and  Other  Speeches.     William  Winter. 

[Vide   The   Comedian,   p.   35.     Same  article   con- 
densed in  Theatre  (English),  1888.] 
1891      Burton,  W.  E.,  Life  of.     William  L.  Keese.     |Vide 
anecdotes  of  Wallack's  marriage  with  Miss  John- 
stone and  his  association  with  Kean.] 

335 


li^dlltnrt'      ^^3     ^^    Some    of    Shakespeare's    Female    Characters. 
^'»v»iui^'  Lady  Helen  Faucit  Martin.     Edinburgh :  W.  Black- 

fdUbV  wood  &  Sons. 

KdjJlfl  jgp^     Lamb,    Charles,    Plays    and    Dramatic   Essays   by. 

Ed.     Rudolf     Dircks.     London:     Walter     Scott. 

[Vide  Elliston,  etc.] 
1896     American  Actors,  Famous,  of  To-day.     F.  E.  McKay 

and  C.   E.   L.   Wingate.     [J.  Lester  Wallack,  by 

Julian  Magnus.] 

1896  Shakespeare's  Heroes  on  the  Stage.     Charles  E.  L, 

Wingate.  New  York:  T.  Y.  Crowell  &  Co.  (2 
vols.)  [Vide  Index  under  all  actor-families.  In 
same  series :  Shakespeare's  Heroines  on  the  Stage.] 

1897  Keene,  Laura,  The  Life  of:  Actress,  Artist,  Manager, 

and    Scholar.     Together    with    some    interesting 

reminiscences   of  her  daughter.     John  Creahan. 

Philadelphia  :  Rodgers  Pub.  Co. 
1897     A  Group   of  Theatrical   Caricatures.     [Vide   Lester 

Wallack  and  John  Brougham.] 
1900     Twelve     Great     Actors.     Edward     Robins.     [John 

Lester  Wallack.] 
1902     Stoddart,  James  Henry.     Recollections  of  a  Player. 
1902     Tortesa,  the  Usurer,  Criticism  of.     Edgar  Allan  Poe. 

[Maturer   Crit.,   x:  27;    Later    Crit.,  xiii:38    seq. 

Virginia    ed.   Poe.     Ed.  James  A.  Harrison.     17 

vols.      New  York:  T.  Y.  Crowell  &  Co.     In  vol. 

13  is    Poe's   essay  on  "  The  American   Drama," 

pp.  33-73.] 
1904     Elia,    The    Essays    of.     Lamb.     Ed.    E.    V.   Lucas. 

Putnam.     [Vide  Elliston,  etc.] 
1904     Byron's  Works.      Ed.  Rowland  E.  Prothero.     New 

York:  Scribner's.     [Letters  and  Journals  (6  vols.), 

vol.  3,   pp.   190-244.     Drury  Lane.     Vide  Index, 

vol.   6  for  references.] 

1904  London    Stage,    The    History    of    the.     H.    Barton 

Baker.     [Vide  Index.] 

1905  Eytinge,  Rose,  The  Memories  of:  Being  Recollec- 

tions and  Observations  of  Men,  Women,  and 
Events,  during  Half  a  Century.  New  York: 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  Co. 

MAGAZINES 

1862  Harper,  26:  71,  December.  Random  Recollections 
of  a  Life.  J.  H.  Siddons.  [Sections  on  George  III, 
Mrs.  Siddons,  John  Kemble,  Edmund  Kean, 
Sheridan,  Byron,  Fanny  Kemble,  Dickens,  Hood.] 

336 


i868     Galaxy,    6:485,    October.     John    Lester    Wallack.     TJAthllOtt' 

William  Stuart.  >a^iv*»vj5' 

1876     Temple  Bar,  vol.   48,   November.     Elliston.      [Vide     l^^llTll^ 

also  Poole  under  Coburn's  Magazine.]  ^"t'Vc 

1879     Spirit  of  the  Times,  New  York,  December  20,  p.  498. 

Wallack's  Ride  (poem). 
1888     Theatre  (English),  vol.  5,  June  i.     Actor  and  Critic. 

[William  Winter  on  Wallack.] 
1888     Critic,  13:  121,  September  15.     Lester  Wallack.     J. 

Ranken  Towse. 
1888     Academy     (English),    34=195,    September    22.     In 

Memoriam  [Lester  Wallack].     Robert  Buchanan. 
1888     North     American     Review,    147:453-59,     October. 

Lester  Wallack.     W.  J.  Florence. 

1899  Munsey,  vol.  21 ,  August.     Picture  of  Lester  Wallack, 

Jr- 

1900  Blackwood  (English),  168:  906-14.     Helena  Faucit. 

1901  Harper's    Weekly,    45:  464-65,  May  4.    Wallack's 

Theatre.     L.  Reamer. 


IX— THE   DAVENPORTS 

BOOKS 

[In  the  preparation  of  this  chapter,  I  am  indebted  to  Mr. 
Edgar  L.  Davenport  for  kind  assistance.] 

1847  Twenty-six  Years  of  the  Life  of  an  Actor  and  Man- 
ager. Wemyss.  [Vide  Davenport,  Wallack,  Hack- 
ett,  Jefferson,  Booth,  etc.] 

1854  Autobiography  of  an  Actress,  or  Eight  Years  on  the 

Stage.  Aima  Cora  Mowatt.  Boston:  Ticknor, 
Reed  &  Fields.  [Chapter  27  contains  her  defence 
of  the  stage.  She  speaks  of  Poe  as  "one  of  my 
sternest  critics."] 

1855  Plays.     Anna    Cora    Mowatt   [Including   "Armand" 

and  "Fashion"!.     Boston:  Ticknor  &  Fields. 

1859  Jerrold,  Douglas,  The  Life  and  Remains  of.  Bos- 
ton: Ticknor  &  Fields.  [Vide  Jerrold's  "Black- 
Eyed  Susan."] 

i860  Forrest,  Edwin.  Acting  Ed.  of  Plays.  [Othello, 
King  Lear,  Macbeth,  Hamlet,  Richelieu,  Richard 
III,  Damon  and  Pythias.]  New  York:  W.  A. 
Moore. 

337 


15ibli08= 
ram 


i860  Leaves  from  an  Actor's  Note-Book:  With  Reminis- 
cences and  Chit-chat  of  the  Green-room  and  the 
Stage  in  England  and  America.  George  Vanden- 
hoff.     New   York:   Appleton.     [Vide   Macready.j 

1874  Forrest,   Edwin,  Life  of:  With  Reminiscences  and 

Personal  Recollections.  James  Rees  [CoUey 
Cibber].  Philadelphia :  Peterson  &  Bros.  [Ref. 
Davenport.] 

1875  Macready,    William    Charles.     Reminiscences    and 

selections   from    his  diaries  and  letters.     Ed.  Sir 

Frederick  Pollock.     New  York:  Macmillan. 
1877     Forrest,  Edwin,  Life  of.     William  Rounseville  Alger. 

[Ref.  Davenport.] 
1881     Brougham,    John,   Life    of.     Ed.  William  Winter. 

Boston:  J.  R.  Osgood  &  Co.      [Vide    Davenport 

references,  and  plays.] 

1881  Drury  Lane,  Old.     Edward  Stirling. 

1882  Edwin  Forrest.    Lawrence  Barrett.     [Am.  Act.  Ser.] 

Boston:  J.  R.  Osgood. 
1886     Actors  and  Actresses  of  Great  Britain  and  the  United 

States.     Ed.  Matthews  and  Hutton.     [Vide  E.  L. 

Davenport,  by  Henry  Edwards.] 
1889     Cushman,  Charlotte :  A  Lecture.     Lawrence  Barrett 

(Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  No.  9.) 
1891     Journal  of  a  London  Playgoer.     Henry  Morley. 
1894     Booth,  Edwin,  Life  of.     William  Winter. 
1896     American  Actors,  Famous,  of  To-day.     Ed.   F.  E, 

McKay    and    C.    E.    L.    Wingate.     [Vide    Fanny 

Davenport.] 
1898-9  Players  of  the  Present.    Clapp  and  Edgett.    (Dunlap 

Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  7-9).     [Vide   Edgar  L.  Davenport, 

Jr.,  and  May  Davenport.] 
1899     Mrs.  John  Drew,  Autobiographical  Sketch  of. 

1 90 1  Davenport,  Edward  Loomis:  A  Biography.     Edwin 

Francis  Edgett.  (Dunlap  Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  14.) 
[Photographs :  i.  E.  L.  D.;  2.  As  Adam  Trueman  in 
"Fashion";  3.  Shylock;  4.  Hamlet;  5.  Sir  Giles 
Overreach;  6.  Richelieu;  7.  Fanny  Davenport; 
8.  E.  L.  D.;  9.  Brutus;  10.  Mrs.  E.  L.  D.] 

1902  Plays    of   the    Present.     Clapp    and    Edgett.     [Vide 

Index.] 
1902     Life   on   the   Stage :  My  Personal  Experiences  and 
Recollections.     Clara    Morris    (Harriott.)     [Chap. 
23.     Ref.  Fanny  Davenport  and  E.  L.  D.]     New 
York:  McClure,  Phillips. 

338 


1902  Edgar  Allan  Poe's  Criticisms  of  Mrs.  Mowatt  in  the 
Virginia  edition  of  Poe's  works  (17  vols.).  ["The 
New  Comedy"  (Fashionj.  Later  Crit.  xii,  112. 
"Prospects  of  the  Drama."  Later  Crit.  xii,  124. 
"Criticism  of  Her  Acting."  Later  Crit.  xii,  184- 
92,  210,  "The  Fortune  Hunter,"  etc.  Later  Crit. 
xii,  207.  Vide  The  Literati,  voL  xv,  27;  vol.  xv, 
28;   vol.  XV,  92,  "Fashion."] 

1905  Eytinge,  Rose,  Memories  of.  [Vide  Davenport, 
Booth,  Wailack,  Augustin  Daly,  George  Holland.] 

MAGAZINES 

1878  Lippincott,  21:  463,  April.  Recollections  of  E.  L. 
Davenport.     Henry  P.  Goddard. 

1884  Theatre  (English),  March.  Quoted  from  New  York 
Spirit  of  the  Times.  Recollections  of  Fanny  Dav- 
enport. 

1888  Lippincott,  42:  565,  October.  Some  Childish  Mem- 
ories.    Fanny  Davenport. 

1898  Athenaeum  (English),  p.  462,  October  i.  Biog. 
Sketch.     Fanny  Davenport. 

1898     Critic,  3S'-  232,  October.     Fanny  Davenport. 

1901  McClure,  16:  201,  January.  My  First  Appearance 
in  New  York.  Clara  Morris.  [Davenport,  F., 
Daly,  Linda  Dietz,  Agnes  Ethel.] 

1901  McClure,  17:  256-61,  July.  Recollections  of  E.  L. 
Davenport.     Clara  Morris. 

1905  Theatre,  New  York,  June,  seq.  Personal  Recollec- 
tions of  Augustin  Daly.  Margaret  Hall.  [Ref. 
Davenports.  Vide  also  Edward  A.  Dithmar's 
"Memories  of  Daly's  Theatre."] 
[Vide  newspaper  accounts  of  discussion  between 
Fanny  Davenport  and  Sarah  Bernhardt  regarding 
Cleopatra.  Vide  also  Indices  of  New  York 
Tribune,  under  Drama,  for  ref.  to  Davenports.] 


X— THE    HOLLANDS 

BOOKS 

[In  the  preparation  of  this  chapter,  I  am  indebted  to 
Messrs.  George,  E.  M.,  and  Joseph  Holland  for  kind 
assistance.] 

1868  Theatrical  Management  in  the  West  and  South.  By 
Solomon  Smith. 

339 


13tbUog* 
rapier 


Ol^nilt'flrt       ^^7^     George     Holland,    Life    of.     Ed,    T.     H.     Morrell. 
4:3iuilU^'  [Privately  printed,  New  York.] 

fAllhll  1877     Forrest,  Edwin.     William  Rounseville  Alger. 

^(*y^)t  1880     Dramatic  Life  as  I  Found  It.     N.M.Ludlow.    [Ref. 

to  Holland,  p.  733  seq.] 
1 88 1     The  Jefifersons.     William  Winter.     [Letter  from  J. 

B.  Booth  to  George  Holland.] 
1889     Brief    Chronicles.     William  Winter.     [George   Hol- 
land, St.] 
1896     American   Actors,  Famous,  of  To-day.     Ed.   F.   E. 
McKay  and  C.  E.  L.  Wingate.     [E.  M.  Holland, 
by  George  Parsons  Lathrop.] 

1900  Famous    Actors    of    the    Day    in    America.     L.    C. 

Strang.     [Chap.  9,  pp.  58-69.     E.  M.  Holland.] 

1 90 1  Players  of  the  Present.     Clapp  and  Edgett.     [Vide 

Holland.  Vide  also  Plays  of  Present.] 
1901  Comedians,  A  Group  of.  William  L.  Keese.  (Dun- 
lap  Soc.  Pub.,  n.s.  15.)  [Henry  Placide,  W.  R. 
Blake,  Charles  Fisher,  John  Brougham,  and 
George  Holland.] 
1905  Eytinge,  Rose,  Memories  of.  [Vide  Holland.  Vide 
also  indices  of  the  New  York  Tribune.] 


XI— THE   POWERS 

BOOKS 

[In  the  preparation  of  this  chapter,  I  am  indebted  to  Mr. 
Tyrone  Power  for  kind  assistance.] 

1824  Biography  of  the  British  Stage:  Being  Correct  Nar- 
rative of  the  Lives  of  all  the  Principal  Actors  and 
Actresses.     New  York. 

1836  Impressions  of  America:  During  the  Years  1833, 
1834,  and  1835.  Tyrone  Power,  Esq.  Phila- 
delphia: Carey,  Lea,  &  Blanchard  (2  vols.). 

18 — ?  Paddy  Carey;  or.  The  Boy  of  Clogheen.  Farce. 
Tyrone  Power.     London:  T.  H.  Lacy. 

18 — ?  How  to  Pay  the  Rent.  Farce.  Tyrone  Power. 
New  York:  W.  Taylor  &  Co. 

18 — ?  Born  to  Good-luck;  or.  The  Irishman's  Fortune. 
Farce.  Adapted  from  "False  and  True."  Tyrone 
Power.     London:  T.  H.  Lacy. 

1831  Married  Lovers:  A  Petite  Comedy.  Tyrone  Power. 
Baltimore :  J.  Robinson. 

340 


1838     St.  Patrick's  Eve ;  or,  The  Order  of  the  Day.    Tyrone     Tl^lbliOdi 
Power.     London :  Chapman  &  Hall.  .«^»v%»wa 

1847     Lives  of  the  Most  Celebrated  Actors  and  Actresses.     |*fltlTir; 
Thomas  Marshall.     [London :  E.  Appleyard.   July     •'*»f  v  t 

6,  1847.] 

1847  Twenty-six  Years  of  the  Life  of  an  Actor  and  Man- 
ager.    Wemyss. 

1872  Representative  Actors.  William  Clark  Russell. 
London:  F.  Warne  &  Co.     [Vide  Power,  p.  377.] 

1880  Dramatic  Life  as  I  Found  It.     N.  M.  Ludlow. 

1 881  Drurv  Lane,  Old.     Edward  Stirling. 

1884  Edmund  Yates:  His  Recollections  and  Experiences. 
London:  Bentley  (2  vols.).  [Ref.  Power,  Bou- 
cicault,  Wallack.] 

1889  Lester  Wallack,  Memories  of.     Scribner's. 

1890  Autobiography  of  Joseph  Jefferson.     Century. 

1898  Actors  of  the  Century.     Frederic  Whyte. 

1899  Drama,  The,  of  Yesterday  and  To-day.     Clement 

Scott. 
1902     Plays  of  the  Present.     Clapp  &  Edgett.     [Ref.  Power 
and  Edith  Crane.] 

MAGAZINES 

1852  Dublin  University  Magazine,  40:  256,  557,  715, 
September,  November,  December.  Tyrone  Power : 
A  Biography.  By  J.  W.  C.  [Calcraft  met  Power 
in  Newcastle-on-Tyne  in  1819.  Manager,  Dublin 
Theatre  Royal,  later] 

1902  Tribune,  New  York,  November  20.  William  Winter 
on  Tyrone  Power's  Judas  in  Heyse's  "Mary  of 
Magdala." 


341 


i  he  came  home  to  act. 

\  seized  by   Stage  Fright 

>      ..Anybody   can  make   a  Uvmg  on 
1  the  stage  "the  youth  had  said  reck- 

i'tJ'his  lather  gave  him  a  bit  in 
;,  ..Brother  Sam."  a  Show  opening  at 

\  a  New  York  theatre.   The  boy  had 

>  ,         f«  «;npak    but  when 

i  only   one   hne   to  speak,   d 

he   faced   his   father   on   the   stage 

his  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his 

rout'and  he   did   not  mumble  a 

'  "instead,  he  fled   from  the  stage. 

an  actor,  at  ^   ^^^ 

to  Boston  to   stuay.  ^^^^ard 

„.onths  the  father  Pf  ^fj^^7;7. 
with  John  McCullough,  the  trage 
I^n  and  the  youth  started  working 

^s  way  from  minor  parts  to  ma3or^ 

rcterack^KewVorkanddid 
a  part  in  "C-ned  Back_ 
:\      Mr.  Sothern  wrotea^l^y>__ 

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